Стивен Браст: Tiassa

I ran through my assorted weaponry to make sure everything was in place, then opened the door back into the hall.

Directly across from the door was a woman, her mouth open, her eyes filled with terror. My brain instantly did the work of fitting her into the various categories: Dragaeran, Teckla, old. It did that quickly, my brain, because my eyes had already moved on, down the hallway to my right, where I caught only a glimpse of something massive and very white that vanished down another hallway before I could figure out exactly what it was.

“Barlen preserve our souls, G’mon preserve our minds. It is free,” she said, staring me in the face.

“What is? What was that?”

She shook her head, her eyes wide.

“Who are you?” I asked her.

She stared at me for a moment, as if the question made no sense, then said, “Odelpho. I was named Odelpho. It’s from the place my grandmother came from, Delpho, which means ‘home of the bear’ in—”

“That’s great,” I said. “What was that thing?”

“Thing?” she said, as if she’d forgotten it. Then her eyes widened again, and she screamed and fled down the hall in the opposite direction, running a lot faster than I’d have thought she could.

“Boss—”

“I have the same questions you do, Loiosh, and no answers to any of them.”

I looked to my right, the way I’d seen the thing go, whatever it was.

“This can’t be good ,” said Loiosh.

I re-sheathed my rapier and a fighting knife—not actually aware of when I’d drawn them.

“Yeah,” I said brilliantly, still watching the hallway.

I tried to reconstruct what I’d seen, but I just hadn’t gotten a good look at it. It was big, though. I was sure of that. I had the impression it just barely fit between the walls, and had been hunched over because the ceiling was too low.

“Are we going after it, Boss?”

“After it? Are you nuts? What if we caught it?”

“I love it when you break out in common sense.”

I kept walking.

“Boss, you said—”

“We aren’t going after it. We’re just going in the same direction.”

“I can’t—never mind.”

I reached the end of the hall undecided about whether to turn left or right.

“Boss. Someone’s there. Around the corner.”

I almost drew my sword again, but stopped myself. I mean, I was a guest, right? Meeting strangers with weapons drawn is frowned on in some circles. I admit, I don’t usually frequent those circles, but here I was.

I stepped around the corner and someone tried to kill me.

If I’d had time, I’d have made some appropriate remark to Loiosh—you know, about how now I felt more at home. I didn’t though—I turned the corner, and Loiosh yelled into my mind just as something came at me and I threw myself to the side. It went past me about the time I realized—more by the after-effect it had on my eyes than by seeing it—that it had been a very bright light. Have I ever mentioned that I don’t enjoy going into a fight with spots in front of my eyes? It’s irritating.

Lady Teldra was in my hand.

No doubt everyone in the place felt it when I drew her—felt threatened, or terrified, or at least disturbed in some indefinable way. Those who were more sensitive to magical energy would have felt it especially keenly. Me, I felt better.

My attacker said, “Wait,” which I guess is a reasonable thing to say when someone you just tried to kill pulls out a Great Weapon. But all right. I still wasn’t seeing too well, so a little delay before we continued our conversation was fine with me. He was about fifteen paces from me, and had a dark complexion and a high forehead, and stupidly long, straight hair that you’d think would get in his way when he started throwing spells around. He wore the red and white of the House of the Athyra, and the badge on his jerkin was Athyra. The hands he held palms-out toward me had long fingers.

I held myself ready, and waited.

“Sorry,” he said. “You startled me.” His eyes were fixed on Lady Teldra, who was currently a long, slim knife with almost no crossguard.

I remained very still, watching him. Loiosh hissed, just for effect. The guy looked nervous, but still had his hands out in front of him. The posture looked defensive, or even entreating, but you can’t be sure with sorcerers, so I waited.

“I really didn’t mean to attack you,” he said. “I thought you were … you startled me.”

“Lower your hands,” I said.

He nodded, but it took him a while to do it, like maybe he wanted to, but his hands didn’t feel like moving. I’ve been there.

Eventually he lowered them. “Sorry,” he said again. “My name is Discaru, and I have the honor to be Lord Zhayin’s consulting sorcerer.”

“Taltos,” I said. “I’m just a guest. I assume you mistook me for that, uh, that thing?”

“My lord?”

“Is that what you thought you were attacking?”

“I don’t know to what you refer, my lord.”

“Big thing, not really human, sort of pale?”

“My lord?”

“You didn’t see it?”

“No, my lord.”

“Or hear the scream?”

“Scream, my lord?”

“Huh,” I said. I should add that, this time, I was pretty sure the “my lord” had a lot to do with the weapon I was holding. I sheathed her.

“Thank you,” he said, and bowed as to almost-an-equal.

“But you’ve never seen a big, ugly, not-human thing in these halls?”

“Of course not, my lord. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be about my business.”

“Looking for that thing you’ve never seen and don’t know anything about?”

“My lord?”

I shook my head. The sorcerer bowed his head and continued down the hall. I heard footsteps from behind me, and almost drew again, but it was only Harro, coming down the hall more quickly than he wanted it to seem. “There you are, m’lord. I had feared you might become lost.” Issola always seem to have a melodic tone to their voices.

“Lost,” I said. “You were worried I might have become lost.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“That’s what you were worried about?”

“M’lord?”

Issola have a way of standing at just the right distance and holding themselves so they don’t seem to be towering over you. Lady Teldra used to do that too. I wondered what Sara was doing right then.

“You didn’t hear the scream?”

He tilted his head and raised his brows. “Scream?”

“And I suppose you didn’t see some sort of very pale, big, ugly thing wandering about?”

“You are pleased to jest, m’lord,” he said with an indulgent smile.

“Lady Teldra was a better liar, Boss.”

“Yeah, she was.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m jesting. I jest like a, ah, a jesting person.”

“Would you care to accompany me back to the sitting room? I’ve had the cook prepare something while you await the door.”

What cook? “Oh, you have? Well, of course, then.”

He bowed and set off; I followed him. Back in the sitting room there was wine, and a plate with smoked pinkfish, longbeans, and a loaf of bread. The bread was fresh. And visible.

“Thank you, Harro.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t hear a scream?”

A smile flicked across his face—exactly the right smile for someone who is aware of a jest, but doesn’t actually think it’s funny. He bowed and took his leave through the small door.

“Yeah, Loiosh. He’s lying.”

“Share the fish, Boss.”

The bread was good. The fish was kind of bland, but not really the sort of thing you can screw up once it’s been smoked. I’d have enjoyed the food more if I didn’t keep wondering where it came from. The empty kitchen was as disturbing as whatever it was I’d seen out of the back of my eye. Almost as disturbing.