Thinking about that, how to do it, focusing on—
The spiderweb was bigger now, more elaborate.
“Be reasonable,” he said. “It isn’t that I want to hurt you; I don’t. It’s just that there are things we need to know. You are forcing me to do things I find distasteful.”
“I hope that doesn’t make me a bad person,” I said. My voice, in my own ears, lacked the jaunty quality I’d been trying for.
My sweat stank.
“Boss?”
“How is Rocza?”
“I think she’s going to be fine.”
“Good!”
“I don’t know what to do, Boss.”
“Take care of Rocza, and stay out of sight.”
He was running a cool cloth over my forehead; I have to admit it felt good. “You’re stubborn,” he said. “That’s an impressive quality.”
“If you’re leading up to courting me,” I said, “I sort of have my eye on someone already. But thanks.”
What did he want me to tell him, anyway? His questions weren’t making sense. I’d even tried to explain that once or twice, but he’d just gotten this idea firmly in his head, and it wasn’t budging. That’s a problem a lot of people have, I’ve noticed: they get a notion locked in, and then refuse to examine it in the light of new evidence.
“Boss!”
“Loiosh, can’t you see I’m trying to talk to this nice man?”
“What nice man?”
“The one asking the questions.”
“You’re all alone, Boss.”
“Oh, so I am. I must have dozed off. He’s a boring fellow, really, though well-intentioned.”
“I hope that’s sarcasm.”
“I prefer to think of it as gentle irony, but close enough.”
“If a way opens up, Boss, will you be able to walk out of there?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Boss.”
“Mmmm?”
“See if you can walk.”
“All right, if it makes you happy.”
I tried to stand up.
“Okay, I guess you were right to check. I need to complain about the meals in this place; evidently I’m not getting enough of something in my diet.”
“Boss, do you know where they put your things?”
He sounded like he was fighting to stay calm. I wished I could think of a way to reassure him I was all right.
“No, ’fraid not,” I said. “I’m not that concerned about it, frankly. Most of it is replaceable, and I don’t know how much good Spellbreaker would do under these circumstances.”
“I’m thinking of the amulet, Boss. The Jhereg can trace you.”
“Oh, the amulet I have. It’s sort of attached to me. They must have figured out that if it weren’t on me I could do sorcery, and they’d have trouble keeping me here.”
“Can you remove it?”
“Uh, no.”
“We’ll have to come up with something, Boss. I don’t know how much longer you can survive there.”
“How long has it been?”
“You’ve been in there for a week now.”
“Oh, have I?” That seemed odd, but not terribly important. “How is Rocza?”
“Boss, she’s fine! Just …”
“What?”
“Nothing, Boss.”
“Lord Taltos,” he said slowly, “I’m having trouble understanding why you took the name Merss when you came here. Even if I were to believe your story of why you are under an assumed name, why that name? No, no. I’m sorry, that is preposterous. What I would like you to say is the truth. Yes, I am convinced the Count was wrong in his initial idea about you. But you really shouldn’t be so stubborn—I told you what I want.”
“He found out my name, Loiosh.”
“You told him, Boss.”
“I told him? Why would I do that?”
“We need to get you out of there, Boss.”
“Yeah, well, mark me down in favor. Do you even know where I am?”
“No. Do you?”
“Basement of the paper mill.”
“How long have you known that?”
“Just put it together now. I don’t know. The smell. And the sounds. Didn’t even know I was aware of the sounds. Isn’t it odd that—”
“Okay, Boss. But how do I get you out? There’s no one I can talk to.”
“It’s just funny that I knew that. It’s funny how the mind works—”
“How do I get you out, Boss?”
“Find Dahni, of course.”
“Boss?”
“Find him.”
“But how do I talk to him?”
“You won’t have to.”
“How does that work?”
“He’s smart, and he knows you. He’ll see you, ask about me, you won’t answer, he’ll figure it out. It might take him a while. I’m sorry I won’t be there to watch.”
“You think he’ll help?”
“He’ll help.”
“Why?”
“He’ll help.”
I didn’t feel like telling Loiosh how I knew; he’d raise all sorts of objections, and I couldn’t deal with those right now.
“My dear Lord Taltos, all you need to do is tell me a few, simple things, and all of this will stop: What is the name of the traitor, what does the King plan, and when will he be making his move?”
King? Now there were kings involved in this? Where was I, anyway? The East? Oh, yeah, I was. So, okay, I guess it made sense that there were kings involved. I just shook my head. There wasn’t anything I could say by this time.
“I’m afraid,” he told me, “that I’m going to have to get serious.”
“Well, all right, though I’ve been enjoying the frivolous part.”
“No doubt.”
“One thing, before you get too serious.”
“Yes?”
“Mind telling me your name, so I can remember you in my prayers?”
He just shook his head. I suddenly remembered the child’s whisper I’d heard, and it occurred to me that the child hadn’t been apologizing, she’d been expressing sympathy. I felt very pleased that I now understood that.
“Boss? We’re coming. Can you hang on just a little longer?”
“No problem, Loiosh. I’m trying to get him to tell me his name. I’ll see if I can get it out of him before you show up.”
The spiderweb was finished; that made me sad, though I imagine the spider took some satisfaction from it.
My questioner continued, and it got to be something of a running joke between us; he’d ask me questions I couldn’t answer, and I’d ask him his name.
He never did tell me, though; he continued not wanting to tell me right up to the moment when the point of a knife suddenly emerged through the front of his throat.
12
BORAAN: And, I suppose, you will want the explanation, my lord?
LEFITT: Oh, let’s skip that part.
BORAAN: My dear, you know we’d be killed.
LEFITT: Of course. But it might be worth it, just for novelty.
—Miersen, Six Parts Water
Day Two, Act VI, Scene 5
He gagged and choked and clawed the floor and took a long time dying. I watched him carefully. I’m not sure why; I didn’t feel any special malice toward him. But I just had the feeling that someday I would want to have been watching while he died. People were talking to me as it was going on, but I ignored them; I guess it was really important to watch. I don’t know. I noted the details with a sort of professional detached interest—the terror in his eyes, the helplessness on his face. He wrapped his hands around his throat as if he could stop the bleeding, looking like he was choking himself—an effect increased by the blueish color that crept over him. I kept watching. I didn’t miss an instant.
After a while, his mouth open, his hands tried to grip the floor, wet and sticky with his blood, as was the front of his clothing. There was a lot of blood. A whole lot. His eyes took on
a glassy look, open-eyed, and he became mostly still except for some twitching, jerking motions for some time.
Eventually, he stopped twitching.
“Lord Merss?”
Still watching the body, I nodded. I think I nodded; I tried to nod. Hands I didn’t know took me and unstrapped me and moved me from the table. I know I screamed then as they moved me, which is very odd, when you stop and think about it.
I saw a face I recognized. “Well, hello there, Dahni. What with one thing and another, I prefer your method of interrogation.”
His face was like iron. He seemed not to hear me, which was possible. I didn’t seem able to generate much volume. I tried again, but this time said, “Can you find my things?”
His expression became, if anything, sterner. “I’m sorry, we can’t take the time,” he said.
“Gold chain,” I said.
“What?” He leaned closer. I repeated it.
He shook his head. “No, I’m taking you out of here.”
“Bad move,” I said.
For the first time, a bit of humor returned to his expression. “This time, Lord Merss, you’re in no condition to be threatening anyone.”
“Wrong,” I said.
“Wait,” he told those carrying me; four men I didn’t recognize, but who had that same quality as people I’d known during my brief stint in the army. Odd situation, and not worth going into now. But I was convinced they were soldiers of some kind, which fit in nicely with my conclusions. Of course, the fact that Dahni had shown up at all pretty much confirmed my conclusions. Which, like so many things, was good and bad.
“Okay, let’s hear it. I’ll be curious about what you’re going to threaten me with when you’re so weak you can’t even speak above a whisp—”
Their timing was perfect. Right in the middle of his sentence, they leaped up and flew at him. He ducked. They circled his head like they’d planned it, then perched next to me and hissed at him.
He stood back up, eying them warily. In his hand was a big, curved, clunkylooking sword with a wide blade, narrowing near the hilt. He seemed hesitant to use it—with good reason.
“The venom is very fast-acting,” I said, as loudly as I could—which wasn’t very. “You’ll feel chest constrictions first, then be unable to breathe. Heart palpitations, sweat, and your body will shake as you become incontinent. The last minute or so you’ll be entirely unable to move. You’ll die by suffocation. The entire process will take about four minutes. There’s no known antidote.”
Just for the record, almost none of that was true; but few people actually know about the bites of poisonous reptiles; they know they’re poisonous and that’s enough, so you can tell them anything and have a good chance of being believed.
Dahni studied me carefully, then glanced at the four men holding me. “Set him down,” he said. “Gently. I’ll go look for your gear.”
“Loiosh will keep you company,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he said.
“You know, Boss, that was fun.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Someday, you’re going to have to explain how you knew he’d rescue you.”
“Someday,” I agreed.
“Tomorrow would be good.”
“If there is a tomorrow, I’ll consider the matter.”
After what seemed a long time, Loiosh flew back into the room, accompanied by Dahni, who was carrying a large box that had arcane writing on it that I guess described some sort of paper product. “Got it all,” he said. “Want to look it over and see if everything’s there?”
“Yes,” I said, and I think I half fainted there. I’m not sure what happened next—maybe they just stood around the place waiting for my senses to return, or maybe it was only a second or two. But Dahni held the box while I looked inside, and then moved things around so I could see everything. My purses and my money belt seemed intact, and, more important, Spellbreaker was there. I tried to reach for it and I guess I passed out again.
The next thing I remember is a breeze in my face that felt so good I didn’t even mind the stench. It was night, and the mill wasn’t working. I saw a bit of wall, some sky, and the backs of those who were carrying me; evidently they had found a blanket somewhere and were toting me on that, though I had no memory of how or when they’d worked that.
“All right, the boat’s waiting down there,” said Dahni. “After that, I know a safe place—”
“No,” I said, almost killing myself to make sure I was loud enough to be heard.
“Eh?”
“No,” I repeated. “Bring me to the manor. The Count.”
He shook his head as if he hadn’t heard me. He probably hadn’t. He leaned closer and I repeated it.
“Boss! You aren’t thinking! He’s the one who—”
“I know.”
“Think, Boss. I know you’ve—”
“Back me on this, Loiosh. Make sure he brings me to the Count. If he doesn’t, I’m dead.”
“What makes you think—”
“The same thing that made me think he’d rescue me.”
There was a pause, then, “All right, Boss.” He sounded worried. Yeah, me too.
Meanwhile, Dahni had been saying things I’d missed while talking with Loiosh. I shook my head. “The manor,” I told him. “I must insist.”
Loiosh and Rocza hissed. Dahni looked at those who were carrying me, and I could see his thought process. The soldiers, or, if you will, Vlad-bearers, were giving the jhereg nervous looks. Thinking back, I have to admire them. Those fangs were inches from the hands of a couple of the guys; if it had been me, I’d have dropped me and bolted. But I was concentrating on Dahni. This was the crucial moment of the whole thing. I wondered if I was going to have to tell Loiosh and Rocza to attack. I hoped not. For one thing, there really is no way to predict how jhereg venom will affect any given individual; it could be anything from dropping helpless in seconds and dying within minutes to only becoming mildly ill, and I didn’t like to chance it. For another, however it ended it was liable to leave me flat on my back, unable to move, at the mercy of someone who made a career of being merciless.
I told Dahni, “You can’t make it.”
After a moment, he said, “And what happens to me?”
“Once I’m at the Count’s, you can go. The jhereg won’t hurt you.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“I trusted you to rescue me, didn’t I?”
He gave a short, bitter laugh.
“Think it over,” I said. “You were my best shot so I took it. Right now, doing what I want is your best shot.”
He hesitated another second or two, then nodded to the men holding my blanket. “Get him to the wagon, then take him back home. On my authority.”
One of them said, “Yes, lord,” and they started moving with me again. I think I might have passed out somewhere in there, because I don’t remember the boat trip across the river.
I remember the wagon ride, however. It wasn’t as much fun as you might imagine. I’m sure I can’t have been awake and aware for the entire journey, but it sure seems like it. Days. It took days. And it’s funny how a wagon catches even the tiniest rut or pothole in the road. The worst part was when we stopped, and I thought we’d finally arrived; but it turned out the Count’s guards were having words with a patrol. When the jolting and bouncing started up again I bit my lip because I didn’t want them to hear me cry out.
At last it really stopped. They came around, and opened the back, and then I was slipping in and out of consciousness again for a while. It wasn’t pain, it was just exhaustion. I remember the butler, looking down at me, and saying, “The east room,” and thinking how appropriate it was, what with me being an Easterner. I tried to say something about that but it didn’t get far. As I stared into his face, I wondered what he was thinking: How much of that bland indifference was hiding his emotions, and how much was training himself not to have any? He wasn’t like an Issola; it wasn’t
a desire to make someone feel comfortable. It was something else. A natural or cultivated distancing of himself from anything beyond what he ought to display.
The more I thought about him, the less I thought about anything else, which was the point of the exercise, in case I need to spell it out for you.
The butler’s face turned into that of the Count himself, and I couldn’t read his expression, but he didn’t give the appearance of someone about to kill me. I saw him walk away with Dahni, the two of them speaking in low tones. I don’t think it was paranoia to conclude that my name might have come up in that conversation. I asked Loiosh if he could listen in, but they were being careful. Still, I was pretty sure he wasn’t planning to kill me.
Not that I could have done anything about it at that point anyway. I’d pitched all my flat stones and now I was going to see where the round stones stopped rolling.
They carried me up a flight of stairs, which wasn’t as bad as the wagon, and put me on a soft bed. Loiosh curled up by my ear with Rocza next to him. I could feel his head moving back and forth, watching everything. I could almost hear him thinking, Try something; let anyone just try something. That’s my last memory for a while.
Later—I have no idea how much later—there was a bearded, gray-eyed older man bending over me, looking at me with great concern and speaking—I couldn’t see to whom—to a low voice in an uncouth language I’d never heard before.
I tried to take an inventory of how I felt, but all I felt was numb—not that I was complaining about that. I also felt too weak to move, but I didn’t mind so much. Then I became aware that my left arm wouldn’t move at all and I started to panic. The old man said, “Shhhh,” and held his palm out. “It’s all right,” he said in a strange accent, with a sort of singsong quality to the end of his phrases. “It was me. I have tied down your hand so you can’t injure it more.”
I tried to ask if something was wrong with my hand, but talking seemed like a lot of work.
Confused flashes of faces and lights in my face and concerned looks, soothing voices, worried voices, one fading into the other and the smell of herbs steaming reminding me of Noish-pa while I floated there, still, things happening to me as if they were happening around me and all the time my familiar’s voice in mind, saying I know not what, but soothing and warming. I slept and dreamt and I woke and, I don’t know how to say it, at some point the world stopped slipping in and out of the dreamland and I started to know what was real. I think it was getting toward morning when I finally fell into a real sleep that lasted more than an hour.