Steven Brust - Dzur

The reward for doing the dumplings right is that you have the perfect accompaniment for the Valabar’s brisket of beef. I mean, you bite into one and you get an explosion in your mouth of the pure sauce that it’s been absorbing. It’s magnificent.

The only problem is that by this time, you really have to pace yourself; there’s been just too much food in too short a time, and you are very much aware that soon you’re going to reach the end of your capacity.

I think Telnan made a couple of comments that I didn’t hear dur­ing all of this, or else that I heard at the time but no longer remember; I think they were about the way the sausages worked with the kethna, but I’m not sure. What with the beef, the sauce, and the dumplings, I just didn’t have a whole lot of attention to spare.

Another similarity, if you will, between committing murder and indulging in supreme pleasure: Both take one’s full concentration.

“Boss!”

“Damn.”

“What is it, Boss?”

“All is well, Loiosh.”

“If you ever do that again, I’ll bite you. I mean, really, really hard.”

“Understood. How long was I gone?”

“Forever. Almost an hour.”

I checked with the Orb. I’d been gone about twenty minutes. “Okay. Let’s go home.”

I returned to the sanctuary of my room, and settled in to wait. The waiting lasted about three minutes before I realized that sitting there doing nothing would drive me nuts.

“You know, it could be days, Boss.”

“It could be weeks.”

“You can’t just walk around for weeks.”

“I’m not just walking around. I have a destination in mind.”

“Oh, all right. Where to, then?”

“Anywhere.”

We went out and walked anywhere, Loiosh and Rocza staying above me, but pretty close. I guess Loiosh was nervous.

Mostly what I remember from that day are faces, passed in the street. The faces of Easterners, of my people: old and young, one who seemed pleased about something, a couple who appeared unhappy, several who were lost in thought, a couple who were looking around. One guy, about my age, made eye contact with me and gave me a nod. I remember nothing of where I saw them, or what I was doing—just walking, I suppose. But I remember the faces.

“There is a moment,” Telnan had told me, “when you either attack with everything you have, or you do something else. That moment, right before you commit yourself, that’s when you learn who you are.”

“Okay,” I had told him. “What if you don’t like yourself?”

He’d laughed, like I was kidding with him. But what I ought to have asked was, how do you survive the interminable seconds, or hours, or days, that lead up to that moment? If I saw him again, I’d ask, but it was unlikely the answer would do me any good. Whatever I was, I wasn’t a Dzur.

“So tell me, Boss. Do you plan to just wander around South Adri­lankha for however many days or weeks it takes?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Oh, joy.”

A few hours later, I swung by Ristall Market. It was full of people buying and selling things. So, at least that part of the op­eration was working. While I was there, I picked up a bag of pecans and chewed on them as I walked. Pecans don’t grow near Adrilankha, they have to be imported from, uh, from somewhere. They’re ridiculously expensive. I think that’s why I like them so much.

Eventually I returned to the room and got some sleep.

Then I was holding a dagger, then Loiosh told me it was okay, then Loiosh yelled, then I woke up. It was another one of those things where what I remember isn’t what actually happened, only now those were beginning to bother me more than they used to. Was it because of Verra, or does everyone goes through that when his familiar wakes him in the middle of the night to warn that someone is about to kill him only to then tell him no, don’t worry, it’s only your friend the assassin?

Hmmm. Let me rephrase that.

On second thought, skip it.

“It’s Mario,” said Loiosh. “ Sorry to scare you.”

“Better that than the alternative.”

Aloud I said, “Come in, Mario.”

The curtain moved and he entered. I lit the lamp and pointed to the chair.

He sat down and said, “Sorry to awaken you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping. What’s up?”

“It’s done.”

I yawned and nodded. “Hmmm?”

“It’s done.”

“It’s ... oh.” I wrapped my head around that. “What hap­pened?”

“Excuse me?”

I cleared my throat. “What’s the word on the street? Or, what will it be?”

“Oh.” He considered for a moment. “The sorceress was stabbed to death by a person or persons unknown as she emerged from a teleport in the middle of the night at Di’bani Circle near the Im­perial Palace. The cause of death was a single stroke by a large knife administered to the back of her neck, severing her spine. There were no witnesses. No doubt, after a thorough and lengthy investigation, the Phoenix Guards will shrug and say, ‘Mario did it’.” He didn’t smirk as he said it, which must have required great restraint.

I said. “Uh huh. I get it. No, wait. As she emerged from a teleport?”

“Sure. There’s always an instant’s disorientation when you—”

“Yes, but how did you ... never mind.”

Mario smiled.

“Thanks,” I told him.

“Least I could do, under the circumstances. Anything else you need?”

Now there was a question.

“Feel like putting a shine on the whole Jhereg? And half the Left Hand?”

“Sometimes, you know, I do.”

I nodded. “I can respect that.”

“Anything you need that’s within the bounds of reason?”

“Except for mass slaughter of the Jhereg, I don’t think this one can be solved by making anyone become dead.”

“Yeah, some things are like that. Odd, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes I can hardly believe it.”

After Mario left, I lay back down on the bed.

“Tomorrow, Loiosh. We move tomorrow.”

“I know, Boss.”

The next morning I didn’t waste any time; I was up and out in minutes. It wasn’t so much that I was in a hurry as that I was tired of doubts and second thoughts. I went to Six Corners and waited there, looking like I had nothing to do, watching. While I watched, I scribbled a note and folded it. On the outside, I put the address of the office, and directions for getting there.

In about five minutes, I spotted a candidate. I said, “Hey, boy. Come here.”

I got a suspicious look from a kid who looked like I might have looked when I was nine.

“Come here,” I repeated. “As long as you promise not to hurt me.”

That turned out to be the right tack. He came up to me, and I flipped him an imperial. “Want another one?”

He stared at the coin, tapped it, pocketed it, and grinned. “Who do I have to kill?” His voice hadn’t changed yet. He was dressed in a cotton tunic that had been bright blue a long time ago, and brown wool trousers.

“Never kill anyone for less than a thousand,” I told him. “This is easier.”

“What—”

“Run over to the City and deliver a message.”

“I’ve done that before.”

“Never for this much, I’ll wager.”

He shrugged. “I get the other one when I get back with a reply, right?”

“Right.”

“And if he doesn’t give me a reply?”

“Then you’re out of luck.”

“All right. You’ll be here?”

I nodded and handed him the note. “Do you read?”