Steven Brust - Hawk

I nodded. “Good then. And thank you once more.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes,” I said. “I think a great deal. But not just now.”

“Oh? What, then?”

“I’ll get back to you.”

“All right. I’ll open up for a few minutes on the hour.”

“Thanks,” I said. “But-”

“Oh, right. You won’t be able to reach me.”

“So, I’ll be spending yet more time flying around Pamlar University?”

“Unless you have another idea.”

“I’m not the idea guy.”

“No, you’re the one who flies off to find Daymar.”

He called me something impolite.

Daymar vanished with a pop of displaced air. It got me more glances from those in Len’s. Then he popped back in.

“Oh,” he said. “Was that rude? Should I not have done that?”

Sometimes I just have no idea what to say. Daymar went through the door this time.

I left a few coins on the table at Len and Nieces and headed out to deal with urgent matters that had been building up since my third klava. Then I walked about half a mile away and found a flophouse. Loiosh and Rocza took a flight around the place to make sure it was safe.

“So, Boss, about this plan.”

“Yeah. Give me some time to think about it.”

“All right.”

Then, “Boss?”

“More time, Loiosh.”

“All right.”

Then he said, “Just tell me one thing: Will the spell work?”

“Daymar just said it would.”

“I know. Will the spell work? ”

“Trying to build up my confidence, are you?”

“That’s my job.”

I gave the landlord some money, started the room fumigating, and walked back outside. I strolled a bit, but it made me nervous, so I went back to the flophouse, hanging out near the desk where the landlord determinedly didn’t look at me. After a while, I went back to the room, smothered the burning herbs, and let the place get started on airing out. I’d have opened the window except that it couldn’t close, so there was no need.

I sat on the bed, I stood up, I paced, I sat down, I leaned against the wall, I struck my palm with my fist, and I said, “Yeah, Loiosh, I think we can maybe do this.”

“Boss, do you know what you’re saying?”

“Yeah. There’s a chance I can get my life back. Or get killed, of course.”

“You’ve almost gotten killed in worse causes.”

“Yeah.”

“What do we need?”

“A way to make a Jhereg think like an Orca.”

“That seems possible.”

“Yeah, if we can make him see things like a Hawk.”

“That sounds harder.”

“There may be a way. We’ll need some things. Lots of things. The first steps will be to get a good supply of cash, and to find Kiera.”

“Which one first?”

“It doesn’t matter. All right. Let’s go steal the Jhereg Council.”

“And we’re off!”

Loiosh sounded positively excited. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d sounded excited about something that wasn’t on the order of telling me that if I didn’t duck I was going to be dead.

I was feeling somewhat the same. It wasn’t just the last few days, of course; I hope I’ve gotten at least that much across. The Jhereg had been after me for years-wanting me not just dead, but dead dead. Soul dead. Killed with a Morganti weapon. I’d been looking over my shoulder all that time, running around, too scared to settle anywhere even for a while. I’d learned that my ex-wife had given birth while I was gone, and I now had a son. I’d fought personal demons and impersonal gods and wandered through buildings that couldn’t exist to do impossible things. I had discovered that I had a destiny, and blown that destiny right off the table. I’d run, fought, hid, and schemed. I was tired of the whole thing. And now, maybe, maybe. After all of this, a “maybe” was more precious than platinum, more delicious than Piarran Mist. In all of these years, this was the first maybe I’d had. I gripped it, held it, studied it from every side. I was pretty close to giving it a name and a food dish.

A beautiful, beautiful maybe.

Now to make it real.

I threw my cloak back on and headed out to get things started.

The first step was easy enough, just tedious. I had to pass through pretty much all of South Adrilankha and then cross the river. I’ve been told that before teleportation became commonplace, the city used to be full of carriages, but now you can only find them near the Palace where they charge too much to take too long to get to too few places. There are cabriolets, but I just didn’t like the idea of having my face exposed while not being under my own power. That left renting a horse, or walking, and I’d ridden on horseback before, so that was out.

I’d gotten used to doing a lot of walking in the last few years, so it wasn’t too bad-it just took a long time. Adrilankha, in case you’ve never been there, is not a small city. It was afternoon when I finally reached the part of Adrilankha where I used to be important-which was also the part where I was most likely to be spotted by those who wanted to do harmful things to my person. Loiosh and Rocza flew above me in slow circles, alert to anything.

I felt a quickening of my heartbeat, and tried to relax. There was a lot to do, and a lot that could go wrong; this wasn’t the time to let my emotions drive the team.

There were four different places where, in the past, I’d left messages that I wanted to see Kiera. The message I left this time was the same at all four: “Please tell Kiera that the little guy is hungry for apples.”

And something happened in there that’s worth relating, because it turned out to be important, though I didn’t realize it at the time.

The Hook is a tiny area on the western side of the city, just touching Lower Kieron. There are no Jhereg operations there. I was leaving a message at a place called the Fruit Basket, and I saw a kid being hauled off by a couple of Phoenix Guards. He wore the colors of the Orca, and if there’s any House I hate, that’s the one. But he was young. He was Dragaeran, not human, so the ages don’t line up, but he looked like the same age as my son. I guess that’s what did it.

Anyway, I couldn’t help it. I approached them.

“Move along, whiskers,” said one of them, not even stopping, and I got annoyed. I dug into my pouch, pulled out my signet and showed it to them. I got all the reaction I could have asked for: wide eyes, open mouths, and I think they even turned a little pale.

The woman said, “My lord, apologies. I didn’t know-”

“That any Easterners had Imperial titles. Yeah. I’m Count of Szurke by the grace of Her Majesty. What is the boy accused of?”

“Cutpurse, m’lord.”

One look at him said he was guilty.

“May we proceed?” said the man.

I considered. “Not yet.” I turned to him. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Asyavn, my lord.” The name wasn’t unlike that of a Teckla boy I liked. I frowned and turned toward the Phoenix Guards. I started to say, “Let him go,” then reconsidered. I was going to need to collect a lot of things. “Get his imprint, and suspend the arrest.”

“Until?”

“A year and a day. If he’s done nothing in that time, it never happened.”

“As you say, m’lord.”

When they’d taken a psychic impression of him, they left. I turned to him, and he seemed a little frightened. He said, “You could have just freed me.”