Steven Brust: Athyra

Athyra

Vlad Taltos, Book 6

Steven Brust

For Martin, and it’s about time.

Acknowledgments

A whole bunch of people read early stages of this book and helped repair it. They are:

Susan Allison

Emma Bull

Pamela Dean

Kara Dalkey

Fred Levy Haskell

Will Shetterly

Terri Windling

As always, I’d like to humbly thank Adrian Charles Morgan, without whose work I wouldn’t have a world that was nearly so much fun to write about.

Special thanks to Betsy Pucci and Sheri Portigal for supplying the facts on which I based certain portions of this book. If there are errors, blame me, not them, and, in any case, don’t try this stuff at home.

Prologue

Woman, girl, man, and boy sat together, like good companions, around a fire in the woods.

“Now that you’re here,” said the man, “explanations can wait until we’ve eaten.”

“Very well,” said the woman. ‘That smells very tasty.”

“Thank you,” said the man.

The boy said nothing.

The girl sniffed in disdain; the others paid no attention.

“What is it?” said the woman. “I don’t recognize—”

“A bird. Should be done, soon.”

“He killed it,” said the girl, accusingly.

“Yes?” said the woman. “Shouldn’t he have?”

“Killing is all he knows how to do.”

The man didn’t answer; he just turned the bird on the spit.

The boy said nothing.

“Can’t you do something?” said the girl.

“You mean, teach him a skill?” said the woman. No one laughed.

“We were walking through the woods,” said the girl. “Not that I wanted to be here—”

“You didn’t?” said the woman, glancing sharply at the man. He ignored them. “He forced you to accompany him?” she said.

“Well, he didn’t force me to, but I had to.”

“Hmmm.”

“And all of a sudden, I became afraid, and—”

“Afraid of what?”

“Of—well—of that place. I wanted to go a different way. But he wouldn’t.”

The woman glanced at the roasting bird, and nodded, recognizing it. ‘That’s what they do,” she said. “That’s how they find prey, and how they frighten off predators. It’s some sort of psychic ability to—”

“I don’t care,” said the girl.

“Time to eat,” said the man.

“I started arguing with him, but he ignored me. He took out his knife and threw it into these bushes—”

“Yes,” said the man. “And here it is.”

“You could,” said the woman, looking at him suddenly, “have just walked around it. They won’t attack anything our size.”

“Eat now,” said the man. “We can resume the insults later.”

The boy said nothing.

The woman said, “If you like. But I’m curious—”

The man shrugged. “I dislike things that play games with my mind,” he said. “Besides, they’re good to eat.”

The boy, whose name was Savn, had remained silent the entire time.

But that was only to be expected, under the circumstances.

I will not marry a dung-foot peasant,

will not marry a dung-foot peasant,

Life with him would not be pleasant.

Hi-dee hi-dee ho-la!

Step on out and do not tarry,

Step on back and do not tarry,

Tell me tell me who you’ll marry.

Hi-dee hi-dee ho-la!

Savn was the first one to see him, and, come to that, the first to see the Harbingers, as well. The Harbingers behaved as Harbingers do: they went unrecognized until after the fact. When Savn saw them, his only remark was to his little sister, Polinice. He said, “Summer is almost over; the jhereg are already mating.”

“What jhereg, Savn?” she said.

“Ahead there, on top of Tern’s house.”

“Oh. I see them. Maybe they’re life-mates. Jhereg do that, you know.”

“Like Easterners,” said Savn, for no other reason than to show off his knowledge, because Polyi was now in her eighties and starting to think that maybe her brother didn’t know everything, an attitude he hadn’t yet come to terms with. Polyi didn’t answer, and Savn took a last look at the jhereg, sitting on top of the house. The female was larger and becoming dark brown as summer gave way to autumn; the male was smaller and lighter in color. Savn guessed that in the spring the male would be green or grey, while the female would simply turn a lighter brown. He watched them for a moment as they sat there waiting for something to die.

They left the roof at that moment, circled Tern’s house once, and flew off to the southeast.

Savn and Polyi, all unaware that Fate had sent an Omen circling above their heads, continued on to Tern’s house and shared a large salad with Tern’s own dressing, which somehow managed to make linseed oil tasty. Salad, along with bread and thin, salty soup, was almost the only food Tem was serving, now that the flax was being harvested, so it was just as well they liked it. It tasted rather better than the drying flax smelled, but Savn was no longer aware of the smell in any case. There was also cheese, but Tem hadn’t really mastered cheeses yet, not the way old Shoe had. Tem was still young as Housemasters go; he’d barely reached his five hundredth year.

Polyi found a place where she could watch the room, and took a glass of soft wine mixed with water, while Savn had an ale. Polyi wasn’t supposed to have wine, but Tem never told on her, and Savn certainly wouldn’t. She looked around the room, and Savn caught her eyes returning to one place a few times, so he said, “He’s too young for you, that one is.”

She didn’t blush; another indication that she was growing up. She just said, “Who asked you?”

Savn shrugged and let it go. It seemed like every girl in town was taken with Ori, which gave the lie to the notion that girls like boys who are strong. Ori was very fair, and as pretty as a girl, but what made him most attractive was that he never noticed the attention he got, making Savn think of Master Wag’s story about the norska and the wolf.

Savn looked around the house to see if Firi was there, and was both disappointed and relieved not to see her; disappointed because she was certainly the prettiest girl in town, and relieved because whenever he even thought about speaking to her he felt he had no place to put his hands.

It was only during harvest that Savn was allowed to purchase a noon meal, because he had to work from early in the morning until it was time for him to go to Master Wag, and his parents had decided that he needed and de—

served the sustenance. And because there was no good way to allow Savn to buy a lunch and deny one to his sister, who would be working at the harvest all day, they allowed her to accompany him to Tern’s house on the condition that she return at once. After they had eaten, Polyi returned home while Savn continued on to Master Wag’s. As he was walking away, he glanced up at the roof of Tern’s house, but the jhereg had not returned.

The day at Master Wag’s passed quickly and busily, with mixing herbs, receiving lessons, and keeping the Master’s place tidy. The Master, who was stoop-shouldered and balding, and had eyes like a bird of prey, told Savn, for the fourth time, the story of the Badger in the Quagmire, and how he swapped places with the Clever Chreotha. Savn thought he might be ready to tell that one himself, but he didn’t tell Master Wag this, because he might be wrong, and the Master had a way of mocking Savn for mistakes of overconfidence that left him red-faced for hours.