Steven Brust - Dzur

“What’s the play, Boss?”

“They have a glass window.”

“Okay, so they’re rich.”

“Yeah. You and Rocza ready to break a window?”

“Can do.”

“You sure? Remember—”

“I can do it, Boss.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know where I am. The better the timing, the more boring this is going to be.”

“I’m in favor of boring.”

“That’s two of us.”

Between Pear Orchard and Driftwood Streets in the Falworth Market is a great, square, red stone building that rents out space to several businesses. The front, where it faces the market, is a public house with a piece of wood painted on the sign. I think it was supposed to be The Driftwood Inn, but everyone calls it The Twig. It was a nice place; padded benches and chairs around dark hardwood tables, etchings on all the lanterns, and like that.

I got some stares as I walked in. The host frowned at me and might have said something about Easterners not being permitted, but I gave him a look before he could say anything, and I guess he thought better of it. Besides, I didn’t sit down; I walked straight through to the back of the room and pushed aside a curtain.

“Straight to the back, and through a—”

“I saw, Boss.”

Two Dragaerans sat at a table, looking at a ledger of some kind. Both wore the black and gray of House Jhereg.

One of them looked up at me. “Who are you supposed to be?”—which would have been an interesting question if I were still being Sandor.

“You must be Vaasci.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“I’m a messenger.”

“From?”

“Your friend Josef.”

“Who?”

I suddenly got worried; he looked sincere. “Josef,” I said. “Easterner? Ristall Market?”

“Oh, that. Well, what does he want?”

“He said that the operation is over and he’s leaving town.”

Vaasci frowned. “Why?”

“Because if he didn’t, he was going to be harmed.”

“Harmed?”

“Yeah.”

“Now, Loiosh.”

“We’re on the way.”

“By who?”

“Me.”

I smiled.

His eyes narrowed, and I had the sudden feeling he might have recognized me. Then the curtains moved and Loiosh and Rocza came flying in. Or, actually, Rocza came flying in. I was go­ing to ask Loiosh where he was, but then things happened quickly.

They both stood up, and Rocza flew into the face of Vaasci’s friend, who lost his balance and landed in his chair again. I rammed a shoulder into Vaasci, drew a dagger, and shoved it into the one who was sitting. I caught him below the heart, left the knife there, and turned to face Vaasci. It was like a dance. Pretty slick.

I drew Lady Teldra, and drawing her, felt a sudden rush of invincibility. I’d have to make sure not to believe that rush; it could get me into trouble. But this time, at least, it seemed justified: Vaasci made a little squeaking sound, very un-Jhereg-like, and flinched.

I heard myself say, “Drop it,” which was when I realized he was holding a dagger.

He didn’t hesitate; he just dropped it.

Lady Teldra, sweet and firm in my hand, had gotten a little shorter and a lot wider—a throat-cutting weapon. Perfect for the occasion. What a coincidence.

I said, “If I get so much as a hint that either one of you are attempting psychic contact, I will have your souls.”

I had to admire Vaasci; there wasn’t even a flicker. His friend moaned, but that was because of the steel sticking out of him. I spared him a glance and said, “You’ll live.”

He started to say something, but coughed, and there was a trickle of reddish foam around his lips. I might have been wrong. “Loiosh—”

“Be right there, Boss. You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay,” I told Vaasci. “Now, we need to talk. I’m—”

“I know who you are.”

“Good. That saves time.”

Loiosh flew into the room and landed on my right shoulder. Rocza took up a position on my left.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“I felt something. I couldn’t pay attention, but you were—”

“Don’t worry about it, Boss.”

I studied Vaasci in silence while I thought things over. “Got caught in the curtain, didn’t you?”

“Shut up, Boss.”

“Watch them close, Loiosh. I need to know if either one attempts psychic contact.”

“I’m on it.”

“There aren’t any curtains in the way.”

“Shut up, Boss.”

“Okay, m’lord Vaasci. We have a problem, you and I.”

He glowered. Or maybe glared. I’ve never been too sure of the difference.

“I admire your cleverness,” I said. “It was a nice move. But I can’t let it happen. Personal reasons.”

“You are so dead, Taltos, that it’s hardly worth talking to you.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But there are things I can do before I lie down. And you probably don’t want me doing them on you.”

“Okay. Keep talking.”

“That was my plan.”

I cleared my throat.

“Like I said, the operation is over. You are out of South Adri­lankha as of now. I know who you’re working for, by the way, and he doesn’t scare me. Not much scares me at this point, since, as you said, I’m pretty much dead already.”

“What aren’t you telling me, and get on with it.”

“You’ve got nerve, Lord Vaasci, I’ll give you that.”

“Spare me the compliments, dead man.”

For just a second, I wanted to shove the blade home. But I didn’t do it, and he knew I wouldn’t do it, so—“You tell your boss that ... no. Tell your boss to tell his boss that South Adrilankha is off limits. For you, and for the Left Hand. All Jhereg operations here are off. Whatever the Easterners want to do here, they do.”

“Right, Taltos. And he’ll listen because you said so.”

“No, he’ll listen because I’m very persuasive, and because it’ll be much cheaper to leave it alone.”

“And you’re going to convince him of that.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll pass the word on.”

“Meantime, you get out of here. If I see you on this side of the river again, I don’t have to explain what will happen, do I?”

His eyes never left mine. “No, I think I’m clear enough on that.”

“Okay. Take care of your associate. He looks uncomfortable.” I turned my back on him and walked out. Smooth.

“Loiosh?”

“They aren’t moving.”

“Okay, I’m clear. Come on out. Careful of the curtain.”

I walked through the room. The host glanced at me then quickly looked away. Two or three patrons were carefully not look­ing in my direction either. It was just like after an assassination, except that it had taken longer, and no one had died. Well, unless Vaasci’s friend succumbed to the dagger I’d left in him.

I was shaking just a little when I got onto the street. Loiosh and Rocza flew through the broken window and joined me. I felt bad about the window.

We moved quickly back east. Loiosh said, “We survived.”

“Yes. Were you worried?”

“Me? Of course not, Boss.”

“I was. That was a risky move.”

“Well, I admit if there had happened to be a couple more there, it could have gotten interesting.”

I made it back to Six Corners, and found the pieces of Sandor right where I’d left them. Loiosh assured me that no one was around, so I put them on once more, not without a certain regret mixed with the sense of relief.