Стивен Браст: Tiassa

“Oh.”

I reflected on how interesting it was that I sort of cared that I didn’t care about how I cared that I didn’t care.

“Boss, can you shake out of it?”

“No, but maybe I can push through it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Maybe—

I considered. It didn’t actually matter, but it might work anyway, you know. So why not? I sat down in a random chair, back to the door, leaned back, closed my eyes, tried to let myself open up, if that makes any sense: I permitted my mind to drift, encouraging any spells, visions, or enchantments that wanted to show up. Come on. If you’re there. Want to play with my head? Fine. I’m not using it anyway.

“Who are you?”

I opened my eyes. Or, rather, I thought about opening my eyes. I couldn’t summon up the will to actually open them.

A woman sat across the table from me, and at some point as I looked at her I realized that I had, in fact, opened my eyes.

“My name is Vlad,” I said. “Pleased to meet you. Or I will be, when I’m capable of feeling pleased again. Can you tell me anything useful about what’s happening to me?”

“Sorry, it’s the room. My fault. And I’m Tethia.” She said it as if she expected me to have heard of her. When I didn’t respond, she looked significantly at Loiosh and Rocza as if expecting me to introduce them. I didn’t.

“Tethia,” I repeated, and looked at her clothing. She was wearing a loose-fitting yellow blouse, and some sort of thin, loose-fitting pants of a bright red. “Vallista?”

“Yes. I designed this platform, obviously.”

“Uh, yeah, obviously,” I said. And, “Platform?”

“What would you call it?”

“I’d probably give it a portentous name I’d regret later.”

“It is called Precipice Manor.”

“You’re way ahead of me. Someday I’ll have to introduce it to Castle Black and they can compare notes. Is this real?”

“Is what real?”

“Are you actually here, and is this really happening?”

“No, and yes.”

“Fine, then. How do I fix it?”

“You mean the sense of emotional lethargy? It’ll go away on its own, I hope.”

“Your reassurance is—”

“Please. Why are you here?”

“Um. I was hoping you could tell me that.”

“You’re an Easterner, and, though you don’t wear the colors, you have the aura of a Jhereg.”

“The first is true, the second is close enough, I guess.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Good. That makes me feel less lonely.”

“Loiosh, what are you sensing?”

“There’s something there, Boss. It feels like, uh, remember that time we spoke with a ghost?”

“Not pleasantly. All right, then.”

“You were communicating with your familiar,” said Tethia.

“Yes.”

“How can you do that, when you wear protection against psychic phenomena?”

“I’ve been hoping someone can tell me.”

“There are any number of things I can tell you,” she said. “But you have to ask the right questions.”

“What am I doing here?”

“Having visions, or communing with the dead, as you please.”

“You’re dead?”

“Yes. At least, I think so. I don’t remember dying, but then, I don’t remember being born, either.”

“What are you doing here? How are you here if you’re dead?”

She looked around. “I designed this place. It’s more me than I am.”

“I don’t understand.”

She shook her head. “It is what the Serioli call a rigna!theiur .”

“Ah, yes, that helps a great deal.” My heart thumped. I realized how vulnerable I was, and I didn’t like it.

“There,” she said. “You see? The effects are wearing off already.”

“Why did I feel them at all?”

“I designed the room this way, to relax people, to make them more reasonable, willing to negotiate. The effects were stronger than I’d thought they would be on you—perhaps because you are an Easterner.”

“I can see where it might be useful, though.”

She frowned. “Useful wasn’t my intention.”

“No?”

“Well, maybe. I’d say helpful, more than useful. In intention.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I wasn’t using it to accomplish something, I just thought it would be a good thing to have available in case of negotiations.”

I wondered if I could gather some high-powered Jhereg in this room and convince them not to kill me. Probably not.

“Why?” I said.

She frowned. “I explained, I thought—”

“No, why did you build the place at all?”

“The platform?”

“Yes.”

She gave me an odd look. “It’s just how we are, I guess.”

“Vallista?”

“Humans. We build things. We make things. All of us, or at least, most of us. I mean we, humans, Dragaerans, we just have that need. Maybe it’s different for Easterners.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Then—”

“Why this building?”

“It was a problem that needed solving,” she said.

Okay, this wasn’t going anywhere. I tried a different approach. “When did you die?”

“I don’t know. I feel as if I’ve been here, part of this room, part of this platform, forever, but I know that I wasn’t.”

“Do you know when this platform was built?”

“It was begun during the Interregnum, but took a long time to complete. Centuries.”

“Um. I was here a few years ago, and this place wasn’t.”

“Yes.”

“That confuses me.”

“I don’t blame you,” she said.

For an instant she wavered, as if she were about to vanish, but then she came back. I wished I knew what to ask.

“How did you die?”

“I told you, I don’t remember dying. My mother died during the Interregnum, or so I’ve been told. I think it may have been in childbirth. During the Interregnum, many women died that way.”

“I’m sorry,” I told her, because that’s what you say.

She nodded and turned her head.

I wanted to ask more about her death, but I don’t know proper etiquette for dealing with ghosts; I should have asked Teldra at some point. I said, “I’m not sure what to ask you. I’m just trying to learn enough of what’s going on to ask the right questions.”

She waited. After a moment, I said, “I don’t know a great deal about how being a ghost works. It’s outside of my area, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m not a ghost,” she said. “Not exactly. I think.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m … Tethia,” she said, looking faintly puzzled.

“Do you know Devera?”

“Who?”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Who is she?”

“Now, that’s a question I’m not qualified to answer. She’s someone who is here, though.”

“Here? She came here?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Also, how?”

“I don’t know why. I’m following her. How? It wasn’t difficult; we just walked in.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.” Then she vanished, which I thought was rude. Lady Teldra wouldn’t have approved. I remained still for a couple of minutes to see if she’d reappear, but she didn’t.

“Okay, Loiosh,” I said. “We’ve just learned something. I have no idea what, but something.”

“I’m sure that’s really useful, Boss. Now what?”

“I’m feeling better. I mean, in the sense that I care, and I’m not quite so willing to just go along with whatever happens.”

“Good. So what do we do?”

“Go along with whatever happens.”