Okay, think of it as a platform. Imagine everywhere I’d been like an unrolled parchment. Maybe it crossed through time, or worlds, or some other crap I didn’t understand. Even so, imagine it like that. I hadn’t been in every room. But I’d seen what I needed to. This spot, here, was the middle. I could feel it. This was the middle, and that spot at the end of the cave was one end, and the other was—right. The front door, of course. The mysteriously locked front door.
It was all closed, that was the thing. From the now, to the past, to the Halls of Judgment, I had never left the “platform.” There was no way out. But if that was true, how had I ever gotten into the Verra-be-damned place?
That was easy: Devera. That’s why Zhayin had been so surprised to see me: he had thought no one could enter. And then, when I could enter, he couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t leave the same way.
Why had Devera been able to lead me through the door, but was unable to get herself out again? That was the key to the whole thing. And whatever the answer was, it had something to do with time, and the Halls of Judgment, and the nature of this strange manor. If I could go into the past, before the manor was built, I’d probably be able to learn something, but that was imposs—
Wait, was it?
Maybe I was looking at this wrong. Maybe it wasn’t about deciding where to build it, but deciding where to put it. What if Zhayin—no, Tethia, or maybe both of them—had built it wherever they happened to be when they started construction? Like, you couldn’t start something from scratch and already be living in it, so maybe you build it right near where you’re living at the time? If that was true, there was still a connection to the then of having built the place, along with the where of its construction.
Housetown. Someone—Zhayin? one of the servants?—had mentioned a place called Housetown.
Well, good. All I needed was to find out where Housetown was. Then I’d leave the manor, get over to Housetown, see what I could learn. Maybe I’d discover what I needed to know in order to be able to leave the manor.
What was it that Tethia had said? When I designed this platform …
There had to be a way from here to there; from this “platform,” to where—and when—it was made. Another anchor. I looked around. A courtyard with a fountain that exactly matched one in the Halls of Judgment: good place for a mystical, necromantic anchor, don’t you think? I looked carefully around the area, looking for something that could be a door to elsewhere, or elsewhen. Nothing. I went back in my mind over all the rooms I’d been in, to try to figure out where it was likely to be. The room of mirrors? The room of light? A false back to the cave?
I was so sure it would be here, though—in this courtyard. The correspondence just felt right. This had to be one of the transition points. The front door, the gateway to the Halls, and here. But how—
If Rocza had been upset when I sat down, she was furious when I stood up, or, rather, when I suddenly found myself on my feet, staring at the fountain.
Sometimes the answer is right in front of you. Dark Water. If it had been a jhereg, it would’ve bit me.
I jumped up onto the rim of the fountain, then down into the main basin, which looked all of eight inches deep. I fell a lot more than eight inches; more like three feet, and only my highly trained, cat-like reflexes kept me from twisting an ankle. Or luck, whichever. Three feet of water, yet I was only wet to just above my ankles.
I was out in the open. That’s the first thing you always pick up on, you know. Even before you’re aware of any particular features, like trees, or furniture, you know if you’re inside or outside. That’s why teleporting into caverns is so disorienting, although on that occasion I was too busy bleeding and coughing and passing out to fully experience the disorientation. But this time, I was outdoors. It was a little warm and very humid. There were a lot of tall but spindly trees towering over me, tall grasses in spots alternating with mossy stones. There were rolling hills about me, and the sky looked like it had before: some Enclouding, but not as much as in my day.
I’d come through, and gotten to where I thought I was going to go, and nothing was about to kill me. Loiosh and Rocza landed on my shoulders, and Loiosh was too amazed to tell me how stupid that had been.
I found a few rocks and sticks and stacked them up in case I needed to, you know, get back or something. When I was certain I remembered exactly which rock was in front of me, which tree to my left, and which blotchy stone I was standing on, I took a step forward.
The ground rose to my right, so I went that way, and in a few steps I saw the top of a building popping up over the trees. It was sprawling, not very tall, and if it had ever been walled, the wall had gone. It didn’t look like it had been built with defense in mind. If this was what they’d been calling a castle, they had a pretty loose definition of the term.
I moved closer, taking my time, trying to commit my position to memory with each step in case the manor snapped me back. Whenever I was, the “castle” was active: there was a bored-looking guard at a door, an equally bored-looking guard walking from the back toward the front, and two more strolling around on the roof pretending to be observant. I got as close as I could without stepping into the open. I wasn’t interested in a confrontation.
I studied it. I couldn’t guess how old it was, but in any case the stones were dirty and somewhat worn.
“Boss? I’m getting nervous.”
“Me too,” I said, noticing my finger tapping on Lady Teldra’s hilt. “Think we’re being watched?”
“Maybe. Should we check?”
“Yeah.”
They flew off toward the castle, staying high and swinging wide to cover as much distance as possible. Jhereg have very good eyes; it is hard for something to stay hidden from them even in dense brush, or under a canopy of trees.
“You are being watched, Boss. Two of them, just up the slope behind trees.”
Loiosh flew in tight circles, indicating where they were; Rocza returned to my shoulder.
“Are they watching casually, or actively trying to be stealthy?”
“More just casually watching.”
“Okay.”
Hmm. How to play this? If I walked up and confronted them, would they attack? Would they try to take me to the castle? If they did, would I just get snapped back again? And why were they watching me? Just because I was a stranger, or had I done something to attract their interest? I wasn’t in the mood to fight anyone.
I shrugged and made my way toward Loiosh.
They came out to meet me. The shorter one opened the conversation with great courtesy: “Who are you, and what are you doing skulking around here?” she said. Her speech was clipped, and the vowels sounded like they’d been turned on their side. The other one kept glancing at Rocza.
My name is Szurke, and I will someday hold an Imperial title so you have to be polite out of fear of a future Empress probably wouldn’t have worked well. I said, “My name is Taltos, and I’m afraid I’m lost.”
“Lost,” repeated the other, though it sounded like lahst. She took her eyes from Rocza and raked me up and down with them like she was brushing lies off my jerkin, then turned to the first and said, “He says he’s lost, sergeant.”
“I heard,” said the first. Something in her tone gave me the crazy idea that she didn’t believe me. She—the sergeant—said, “Who are you working for?”
“No one,” I said. “I’m available for hire. What do you need done?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Please hand me your weapons and come with me.”
“No, and yes,” I said.
It took her a second to work that out. Then she said, “I must insist.”
“That would be a tactical error.” I started tapping Lady Teldra’s hilt with my finger and waited. Loiosh returned to my shoulder, looked at her, and hissed. “You are outnumbered, you know,” I said, and waited to see what they’d do.
11
GORMIN’S GUEST
They hesitated. I’d put the
m in a tough position, what with there being only two of them; but being Dragonlords in spite of the Vallista colors, they weren’t about to back down to an Easterner. I didn’t actually want things to get bloody. It had been a while since I’d drawn blood at all, and I didn’t miss it. (Giving that idiot game warden a bloody nose doesn’t count; if he’d been willing to drop his club he could have caught himself before he hit the table, right?) In the past I’d have happily handed over my rapier and knife, counting on my extras to take care of things if there were problems; but in the past I hadn’t had Lady Teldra. No way was I putting her into someone else’s hands.
As far as Sarge and friend were concerned, the choices were between drawing steel and calling for reinforcements. I needed to give them another option, and I had to do it so they didn’t feel they were being mocked by an Easterner. I studied the sergeant’s eyes, and saw the little flicker as she made up her mind to draw.
“Look,” I said. “There’s no need for this. I’ll come with you if you want, and I’m not about to attack anyone. I just don’t feel inclined to disarm myself.”
“If you don’t plan on attacking anyone, why not?”
“If I did, how much chance would I have against not only you two, but however many more of you there are inside? If you really want to arrest me, go ahead and try. But if you just want to talk to me, then let’s all go inside together, like civilized folk, and we’ll have a conversation.”
It wasn’t working. I spared a few precious instants to have silent evil thoughts about Dragonlords and all of their offspring from the beginning of the Empire to the end of the world. It didn’t take long; I keep a few of those thoughts around to be used as needed.
“Look,” I said. “I wasn’t sneaking, I wasn’t hiding. I’m lost, and I was heading to the castle there, or whatever it is, to beg help. Do you really need to disarm me just to point to a way out and ask a few questions? I’ll answer anything you want to know, I just hate having my weapons taken away. You’re Dragonlords; surely you can understand that?”
The key was that I used the word “beg.” That word put me beneath them. I wasn’t challenging them, I was a conquered foe asking for decent treatment, which made it a matter of mercy, not honor. Dragonlords love showing mercy because it makes them feel powerful. Convincing Dragonlords to show you mercy is the best way to not have to kill them.
She hesitated a moment longer, then relaxed and nodded. “Trev, get behind him. And watch your distance; he looks fast, and those creatures look faster.” She wasn’t stupid, that one. But as I had no intention of attacking them, it didn’t much matter. We walked up the hill toward the castle with Loiosh keeping his eye on the Dragonlord following me. I was still expecting whatever strange magic had brought me here to snap me back, the way it had before; but no, the thing fooled me again: we made it right up to the castle.
We entered through a doorway that stuck out from the side of the castle like it had been grafted on. The sergeant preceded me in, then led me down a narrow hallway that looked nothing at all like anything in the manor: it was lit by hanging lamps that smelled of darr fat, and paved with dark gray stones. The walls were standard brick, but the mortar seemed yellow in the lamplight. I hoped I wasn’t being led to a cell. I didn’t doubt my ability to break out, but after I did I’d have to escape, which wouldn’t help Devera a bit.
The sergeant brought me to a room I recognized at once as an officer’s quarters, complete with desk and two chairs. She gestured for me to sit in one, and said, “Trev, find me some support, and inform the lieutenant.” Trev left, and the sergeant leaned against the wall, arms folded. I turned the chair so I wouldn’t have my back to her. Her hair was cut short under her cap, and the sleeves had been cut off of her tunic the way some Dragonlords do to permit more arm movement. She carried a shortsword on either side, and I decided I’d just as soon not fight her if I could avoid it.
“I gave you my name,” I said. “What’s yours?”
“Sir will do,” she said.
“Now, here I thought we were going to have a civilized conversation.”
“You were wrong.”
So much for conversational gambits.
A few minutes later, three guards entered; the sergeant sent them into different corners of the room without saying a word. One of them, a scrawny guy with a pronounced nose and no chin at all, seemed awfully curious about me from the way he kept staring, but I guess he was too much a soldier to open his mouth without permission. That’s one reason I’m not a soldier.
I whistled a tune I’d picked up somewhere on the road and they all pretended not to be annoyed.
Eventually Trev returned with the lieutenant: I had no doubt she was an officer even before I saw the gold braid around her sleeve and polish on her boots. She had a way of walking into a room as if she expected everyone to salute. And they all did, too. I didn’t, but I might have if I hadn’t forgotten how to hold my hand and if I didn’t mind smacking myself in the chest.
The lieutenant sat down behind the desk and said, “Stand easy,” and everyone unstiffened. “Sergeant?”
“Found him skulking around and watching the castle, sir.”
She nodded and looked at me. Meanwhile, I’d turned my chair to face the desk. I pushed it onto its back legs, let it return, and said, “Skulking?”
She ignored me. “Who do you work for?”
“I’m not working for anyone,” I said. “Did you want to hire me?”
Her brows came together and she tried the Hard Stare. What with one thing and another, the Hard Stare doesn’t so much work on me. I smiled and waited.
“You’re spying for Klaver?”
“Who’s Klaver?”
She glanced at the sergeant. “Why wasn’t he disarmed?”
“My call, lieutenant. There didn’t seem to be a need. He came along quietly enough.”
The lieutenant nodded. She looked at me as if considering whether to disarm me now. If she tried, things would get interesting really fast. No doubt they thought there were enough of them to disarm me, but they were wrong. They could, perhaps, kill me, but they couldn’t disarm me. I hoped they wouldn’t try.
For a minute it seemed like she was about to give the order, and I did my very best to be ready for action without looking like I was ready for action. The time stretched, and then it reached that indefinable but unmistakable point where the time for action is past. She shrugged and said, “All right. Tell me this: If you aren’t working for Klaver, why are you here?”
“I was taking a walk. It’s a nice day for a walk.”
“Where are you from?”
“Adrilankha. It’s a coastal city—”
“I know where Adrilankha is. It is two thousand miles from here. Are you saying you walked all the way?”
“There have been many nice days for a walk.”
The guy who’d been staring at me said, “Sir.”
The lieutenant glanced at him and nodded. He cleared his throat and said, “I’ve visited kin in Adrilankha. The accent is right.”
Accent? I don’t have an accent. They had accents.
The lieutenant nodded and said, “Any other observations?”
“His cloak. I’ve seen Jhereg wear cloaks like that.”
She turned to me. “Are you a Jhereg? Are they letting Easterners into the Jhereg now?”
“I used to be.” This was sort of true, and if I’d said, I’m going to be it would have required too much explanation; I’m going to have used to be was, well, no.
“Used to be?”
“The Jhereg and I had a disagreement. That’s why I decided to take a walk.”
“What sort of disagreement?”
“Over how much information on Jhereg activities the Empire ought to have.”
She studied me, I guess deciding whether she believed me, and whether it was worth the effort it would take to find out the truth. I studied her back. I wasn’t lying all that much.
She said, “Will you give me
your word not to try to escape?”
Unspoken was, if not, I’m going to take your weapons away and keep you here by force. I said, “I will. For sixty hours. That’s assuming you don’t do anything unpleasant to me. I react badly sometimes. But yes, if I’m not harmed, sixty hours.”
The sergeant coughed significantly. We both looked at her, and the lieutenant said, “Go on.”
“Sir,” she said. “He’s an Easterner. And he’s a Jhereg.”
“Yes,” said the lieutenant. “And I’ve chosen to take him at his word.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sixty hours,” she said to me. “Agreed. You’ll be free within certain limits; I’ll have one of the servants show you those limits. Meanwhile, I’ll speak to my lord about what to do with you. He abhors violence, and would himself be inclined to simply let you go, which is why it falls on me to protect his interests.”
“His interests, my lady? What interests are those?”
“Perhaps you truly don’t know,” she said. She shrugged. “In any case, I won’t be answering your questions. You’ll be answering mine.”
“That’s not a conversation,” I explained patiently. “That’s an interrogation. If you interrogate me, I might become annoyed and decide not to say anything. If we have a conversation, why, then, I’ll happily participate.”
She took it well; I got the impression it amused her, I guess because she laughed and said, “Are all Easterners this funny?”
“Only the Jhereg ones.”
“I’ll tell you what, Easterner Jhereg: Just to show how friendly I am, I’ll tell you this much: He is working on certain discoveries that others would like to take credit for, if possible, or to at least learn of the state of his research.”
“Could you be a little more vague?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’m curious.”
“For someone claiming not to be a spy, you’re very inquisitive.”
I shrugged. “Maybe a spy would pretend not to be? I don’t know.”
“Neither do I. But I’ll find out.”