* * * *
Six days after Zerika put her foot down, I met with Kragar and Smiley Gilizar. Smiley had been protecting Nielar, and was pretty much recovered from being revivified. He got his name because he smiled almost as much as Varg—that is, not at all.
Varg, however, rarely had any expression. Smiley had a permanent sneer. When he looked like he wanted to bite you in the leg, he was happy. When he got angry, his face became contorted. He had picked up an Eastern weapon called a lepip, which was a heavy metal bar with leather wrapped around it to prevent cuts. When he wasn’t doing protection, he did muscle work. He’d started on the docks, collecting for a short-tempered lender called Cerill. When Cerill was fed up with being reasonable, he’d send Smiley, and then send someone else the next day to reason with whatever was left.
So Smiley sat there, scowling at Kragar and me, and I said, “Smiley, our friend H’noc is going to open up his brothel tomorrow evening. He’s being protected by Abror and Nephital. I want you to go over to help them out.”
He sneered even more, as if it were beneath him.
I knew him well enough to ignore this, however. I continued: “Stay out of the way of our customers, so you don’t scare them. And if the guards try to shut the place down, just let them. Can you handle that?”
He snorted, which I took for a yes.
“Okay, be there at the eighth hour. That’s all.”
He left without a word. Kragar shook his head. “I’m amazed that you can get rid of him that easy, Vlad. You’d think you’d have to do a demon banishment or something.”
I shrugged. “He’s never ‘worked,’ as far as I know.”
Kragar grunted. “Anyway, we ought to know something by tomorrow. Any word from Narvane?”
“Not much. He’s been going slow.”
“I suppose. But he should at least be checking to see if Laris is opening something.”
I agreed. I got hold of Narvane and gave the necessary orders. Then I sighed. “I hate being in the dark like this. We have a good groundwork for the future, but we still know hardly anything about him.”
Kragar nodded, then brightened. “Vlad!”
“Yes?”
“Morrolan!”
“Huh?”
“Aren’t you his security consultant? Doesn’t he have a spy network?”
“Sure, Kragar. And if you want to find out how many sorcerers Lord Whointheheck of the House of the Dragon has, I could tell you in three minutes, along with their specialties, ages, and tastes in wine. But that doesn’t help us.”
He got a vacant look, and said, “There ought to be a way to use that . . . ”
“If you think of one, let me know.”
“I will.”
H’noc reached me late in the evening of the next day.
“Yes?”
“Just wanted to tell you that we haven’t been bothered by any guards yet.”
“Good. Customers?”
“Maybe two.”
“Okay. It’s a start. Have you seen anyone who looks like he might be working for Laris?”
“How would I know?”
“All right. Stay in touch.”
I looked up at Kragar, who was spending more time in my office than in his own these days. “I just talked to H’noc. No problems; no customers.”
He nodded. “If we make it through the night, maybe we should open up a cleaner tomorrow.”
“Sure,” I said. “Who?”
“I know a few thieves who’ve been talking about getting into that end.”
“In the middle of a war?”
“Maybe.”
“All right. Check into it.”
“Will do.”
Kragar found a cleaner, and we opened up a couple of nights later. At the same time, Narvane found out that Laris wasn’t doing much of anything. We began to breathe easier. Soon, we decided, the Phoenix Guards would just disappear, and things would be back to normal.
Normal? Exactly what was “normal” at this point?
“Kragar, what happens when the Phoenix Guards disappear?”
“Things go back to . . . oh. I see what you mean. Well, in the first place, we’re back on the defensive. He starts moving in on us, we start trying to find out all we can about him—and by the way, we should have more than just Narvane working on that.”
“I know. We will, but—it seems to me that this is our big chance to get ahead.”
“Uh . . . what is?”
“This. Now. When neither of us can attack the other, but we can get our businesses going again. We should push it as far as we can. Get as much going as possible, to build up some cash, and make as many friends among Laris’s people as we can, get Narvane and whoever else we can digging into him—the whole bit.”
Kragar thought that over, then nodded. “You’re right. We’ve got the cleaner working, that means we can open up a lender. Three days? Two?”
“Two. We’re going to be paying extra bribes, but that shouldn’t go on too long.”
“Right. And once that’s going, we could start one of the small shareba clubs. A week from today, say? If everything goes well?”
“That sounds right.”
“Good. And we won’t need too much protection at first. Let’s put Wyrn and Miraf’n helping Narvane. And maybe Chimov and Glowbug, too. But keep them all on the rotation for bodyguards.”
“Not Chimov. I don’t want any free-lancer knowing too much about what I know. Make it N’aal. He isn’t good at it, but he can learn.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to them, and let Narvane in on it.”
“Good. Are we leaving anything out?”
“Probably, but nothing I can think of.”
“Then let’s get at it.”
“It’s going to be nice seeing you do some work again, boss.”
“Shut up, Loiosh.”
* * * *
It took Narvane only a couple of days to work the extra help into his organization. The day the lender started, I began to get reports from them, and was impressed. While they still didn’t know many of his people—and those they did were right at the bottom—they found out seven establishments that Laris was running. To our surprise, none of them had reopened. Laris was lying low. I didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or nervous. But there were still Phoenix Guards all over the place, so we felt safe.
A few days later, I opened up a small shareba game, and the next day a game of s’yang stones and a game of three-copper mud. Our list on Laris grew, but he still wasn’t doing anything. I wondered what it meant.
“Hey, Kragar.”
“Yeah?”
“How many Dzur does it take to sharpen a sword?”
“I dunno.”
“Four. One to sharpen it, three to put up enough of a fight to make it worthwhile.”
“Oh. Is there some point to that?”
“I think so. I think it has something to do with needing to have opposition in order to act.”
“Hmmmm. Is this leading somewhere, or are you just being obscure?”
“I’m going to take a walk. Who’s protecting me today?”
“A walk? Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Of course not. Who’s on duty?”
“Wyrn, Miraf’n, Varg, and Glowbug. What do you mean, a walk?”
“I’m going to visit my businesses. Word will get around that I did so, and that I’m not worried about either Laris or the Empire, customers will relax, and business will pick up. True or not true?”
“You’re going to show that you aren’t worried by walking around with four bodyguards?”
“True or not true?”
He sighed. “True, I guess.”
“Call them in.”
He did so.
“Stay here,” I told him, “and keep things running.”
We walked out of the office, past the ruins of the front of the shop (I didn’t dare let anyone close enough to me to let them do repairs), and into the street. There were a pair of Phoen
ix Guards at the northwest corner of Garshos and Copper Lane
. We went that way, Loiosh flying ahead, and I could feel their eyes on me. We went east on Garshos to Dayland, and I was surprised that I didn’t see any others. We went to the cleaner’s, which was set up in the basement of an inn called The Six Chreotha, which looked like it had been slowly falling to ruin for a few thousand years.
I went in to see the cleaner. He was a cheery-looking guy named Renorr: short, dark, with the curly brown hair and flat features that claimed he had Jhegaala somewhere in his background. His eyes were clear, which proved that he hadn’t been in the business long. Cleaning stolen goods is not something one can bribe Imperial guards about, so one must be careful not to let them find out one is doing it. Fences always end up with shifty, frightened eyes.
Renorr bowed and said, “I’m honored to meet you at last, lord.”
I nodded.
He gestured outside. “They seem to have left.”
“Who? The guards?”
“Yes. There were several near here this morning.”
“Hmmm. Well, that’s all to the good, then. Maybe they’re reducing their forces.”
“Yes.”
“How’s business?”
“Slow, lord. But picking up a bit. I’m just getting started.”
“Okay.” I smiled at him. “Keep it going.”
“Yes, lord.”
We walked back out, continued to Glendon, followed it to Copper Lane
, and headed back north. As we walked past the Blue Flame I stopped.
“What is it, boss?”
“Those guards, Loiosh. There were two of them on that corner fifteen minutes ago; now they’re gone.”
“I don’t like this . . . ”
Glowbug said, “Notice the guards are missing, boss? That’s a demon of a coincidence. I don’t like it.”
“Bide,” I told him.
“I think we should get back to the office, boss.”
“I don’t think—”
“Remember what you said about my ‘feelings’? Well, this one is strong. I think we should get back right away.”
“Okay, you’ve talked me into it.”
“Back to the office,” I told Glowbug. He seemed relieved. Varg made no response whatsoever. Wyrn nodded, his eyes dreamy, and his half-smile didn’t change. Miraf’n nodded his great, shaggy head.
We went past the Blue Flame and I started to relax. We reached the corner of Garshos and Copper, and Wyrn and Miraf’n looked down both ways carefully, then nodded. We went past the corner and came into sight of my office. I heard a strange, shuffling sound behind me, a false step, and spun in time to see Varg falling to his knees, a look of shock on his face. With the corner of my eye I saw Glowbug falling.
“Look out, boss!”
For the briefest instant, I couldn’t believe it was really happening. I had known all along that my life was in danger, but I hadn’t really believed that I, Vlad Taltos, assassin, could be taken out as easily as any Teckla on the street. But Glowbug was down, and I saw the hilt of a dagger protruding from Varg’s back. He was still conscious, trying to crawl toward me, his mouth working silently.
Then my reflexes took over, as I realized that I was still alive, and that Wyrn and Miraf’n would be covering me from behind. I reached for my rapier as I tried to spot the knife-thrower, and—
“Behind you, boss!”
I spun, and got a glimpse of Wyrn and Miraf’n backing away as a tall Dragaeran with—wait a minute. Backing away? They were. They were watching me closely as they carefully stepped backwards, away from the scene. Meanwhile, a tall Dragaeran was coming at me, slowly and steadily, with a great sword in her hands.
I changed my mind about the rapier and drew a throwing knife with each hand. I wanted to get at least those two bastards who had sold me out. Loiosh left my shoulder, flying into the face of the assassin before me. That gave me the time I needed to take aim and—
Something told me to dodge, so I did, to my right, as something sharp scraped along the right side of my back. I spun, both daggers flashing, and—
Loiosh screamed psionically as there was a ripping in my left side, from behind. I realized that the assassin with the greatsword had gotten past Loiosh. I felt a coldness, and I became aware that there was a piece of steel actually inside of me, among my bones and muscles and organs, and I felt sick. I ignored my desire to turn that way, and found the one who had attacked from behind. She was very short and held a pair of large fighting knives. She was staring straight at me, dispassionately. The sword was taken from my side with a sudden wrenching, and I found myself on my knees. The assassin in front of me struck full forward, one knife cutting across for my throat, the other thrusting for my chest. I tried to force my arms up to parry—
And there was blood flowing from her mouth, and she was falling at my feet. The knife she was slashing with scored a gash across my chest. As she hit the ground, the other blade found a home in my stomach. I heard flapping wings behind me and was pleased that Loiosh was alive, as I waited for the sword-stroke from behind that would finish me.
Instead, I heard a voice that sounded remarkably like Aliera’s, crying, “You—you’re a Dragon!” And the ringing sound of clashing steel. Somehow, I twisted around as I fell, and saw that it was, indeed, Aliera, wielding a great-sword that was taller than she was, and dueling with the assassin. Watching them was Morrolan himself, fury on his face, Blackwand in his hand. Aliera’s blade swung high as the assassin’s cut low and Loiosh said, “Twist!”
I did, but not in time to prevent the other one, who was still alive, from planting her dagger, to the hilt, in my kidney. There was pain such as I had never felt before, and I screamed. A muscle spasm jerked me to my knees and around and down, flat on my stomach, on the blade that was already there, and I only wanted to die quickly and have it over.
For an instant before I got my wish, my face was a few inches from the other assassin’s, blood still streaming from her mouth, her eyes set in a look of grim determination. I suddenly realized that she was an Easterner. That almost hurt more than the rest of it, but then the pain went away, and me with it.
Chapter Seven
“I guess there’s just a
time for doing dumb things.”
Lingering trace of a fading green light, but no eyes to see it with. Memory like a well, awareness like a bucket—but who pulls the rope? It occurred to me that “me” had occurred. Existence without sensation, and the bucket hadn’t yet reached the water.
I knew what “sight” was when it came, and I found myself staring into a pair of bright round things that I eventually realized were “eyes.” They floated in gray fog and seemed to see me. That must be significant. “Brown” occurred to me, looking at the eyes, at about the same moment that I saw a face fitting around them. Looking at the face, other terms came to mind. “Little girl” was one. “Cute” was another. And “somber.”
I wondered if she were human or Dragaeran, and realized that more of me had returned.
She studied me. I wondered what she was seeing. Her mouth opened and sound issued forth. I realized that I’d been hearing the sounds for quite some “time” and had not been aware of it. The sounds were utterly dead, as if in a room that was completely without echo.
“Uncle Vlad?” she said again, but it registered this time.
Two words. “Uncle” and “Vlad.” Both had meaning. “Vlad” meant me, and I was delighted with the discovery. “Uncle” had something to do with family, but I wasn’t sure exactly what. I thought about the words more, deeming them important. As I did so, a wave of green light seemed to come from all around me, bathing me for a moment, then stopping.
I realized that this, too, had been going on for some time.
Sensations multiplied, and I felt that I had a body again. I blinked, and found it delightful. I licked my lips, and that was nice, too. I turned my attention back to the little girl, who was still watching me closely. She
seemed relieved now.
“Uncle Vlad?” she said, like a litany.
Oh, that’s right. “Vlad.” Me. I was dead. The Easterner, the pain, Loiosh. But he’d been alive, so maybe . . .
“Uncle Vlad?”
I shook my head, and tried speaking. “I don’t know you,” I said, and heard that my voice was strong. She nodded enthusiastically.
“I know,” she said. “But Mommy’s awful worried about you. Won’t you please come back?”
“Come back?” I said. “I don’t understand.”
“Mommy’s been trying to find you.”
“She sent you to look for me?”
She shook her head. “She doesn’t know I’m here. But she’s really worried, Uncle Vlad. And so’s Uncle ’Rollan. Won’t you please come back?”
Who could refuse a request like that? “Where am I, then?”
She cocked her head to the side, looking puzzled. Her mouth opened and closed a few times. Then she shook her head again. “I don’t know, but just come back, okay?”
“Sure, honey, but how?”
“Follow me,” she said.
“Okay.” She moved away a few feet, stopped, and looked back. I found myself moving toward her, but I didn’t seem to be walking. I had no sense of how fast we were traveling, or from where to where, but the grayness gradually darkened.
“Who are you?” I asked her as we moved.
“Devera,” she said.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Devera.”
She turned back to me and giggled, lighting up her face. “We’ve met before, Uncle Vlad.” That triggered some more memories that I couldn’t quite place, but—
“Oh, Uncle Vlad?”
“Yes, Devera?”
“When we get back, don’t mention to Mommy that you saw me, okay?”
“Okay. Why not? Aren’t you supposed to be here?”
“Well, not exactly. You see, I haven’t really been born yet . . . .”
Wherever we were became completely black, and I felt suddenly isolated. Then, once more, I was bathed in green light, and I remember no more.