Then someone else came toward us—a woman dressed in a robe of bright purple. Our guide stopped and spoke quietly to her, and she turned and went off again.
“Boss, did you get a look at her eyes?”
“No, I didn’t notice. What about them?”
“They were empty, boss. Nothing. Like, no brain or something.”
“Interesting.”
The landscape began changing. I can’t be precise about when or to what, because I was trying not to watch. The changes didn’t make sense with how we were moving, and I didn’t like it. It was almost like a short teleport, except I didn’t get sick or feel any of the effects. I saw a grove of pine trees and then they vanished; there was a very large boulder, big and dark grey, directly in front of us, but it was gone as we started to step around it. I’m sure there were mountains not too far away at one point, and that we were walking through a jungle at another, and next to an ocean somewhere in there. In a way, this was more disconcerting than the attacks we’d endured earlier.
It started raining just as I was getting dry again after the soaking we’d started this journey with. I hate being wet.
The rain lasted only long enough to annoy me, then we were walking among sharp, jutting rocks. Our path seemed to have been cut through the stonework, and I’d have guessed we were in a mountain.
It was then that a dragon appeared before us.
I RAN INTO KRAGAR the next day. He cleared his throat and looked away in the particular way he has and said, “I heard that one of Rolaan’s enforcers went for a walk last night.”
I said, “Yeah?”
He said, “No one saw who did it, but I heard a rumor that the assassin used a jhereg to distract the guy he was with.”
I said, “Oh.”
He said, “I’d almost think of you, Vlad, except you’re so well known for having a pet jhereg that you couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to do something that obvious.”
I suddenly felt queasy. Loiosh said, “Pet?”
I said, “Shut up,” to Loiosh, and “that’s true,” to Kragar.
He nodded. “It was interesting, though.”
I said, “Yeah.”
My boss sent for me a little later. He said, “Vlad, you should leave town for a while. Probably a month. You have anywhere to go?”
I said, “No.”
He handed me another bag of gold. “Find somewhere you’ll like. It’s on me. Enjoy yourself and stay out of sight.”
I said, “Okay. Thanks.” I got out of there and found a commercial sorcerer with no Jhereg connections to teleport me to Candletown, which is along the seacoast to the east and is known for food and entertainments. I didn’t even stop home first. It didn’t seem wise.
IT IS REALLY HARD to conceive of just how big a dragon is. I can tell you that it could eat me, perhaps without the need for a second bite. I can mention that it has tentaclelike things all around its head, each of which is longer than I am tall and as big around as my thigh. I could let you know that, at the shoulders, it was around eighteen feet high and much, much longer than that. But, until you’ve seen one up close, you just can’t really imagine it.
Loiosh dived under my cloak. I’d have liked to have followed. Morrolan stood stiffly at my side, waiting. His hand wasn’t resting on his sword hilt, so I kept my hands away from my rapier.
Anyway, just what good is a rapier going to do against a dragon?
“WELL MET, STRANGERS.”
What can I say? It wasn’t “loud” as a voice is loud, but, ye gods, I felt the insides of my skull pounding. Earlier, when the athyra had spoken to us, I had the impression that it was carrying on simultaneous but different conversations with Morrolan and me. This time, it seemed, we were both in on it. If I ever actually come to understand psychic communication I’ll probably go nuts.
Morrolan said, “Well met, dragon.”
One of its eyes was fixed on me, the other, I assume, on Morrolan.
It said, “YOU ARE ALIVE.”
I said, “How can you tell?”
Morrolan said, “We are on an errand.”
“FOR WHOM?”
“The lady Aliera, of the House of the Dragon.”
“OF WHAT IMPORTANCE IS THIS TO ME?”
“I don’t know. Does the House of the Dragon matter to you, Lord Dragon?”
I heard what may have been a chuckle. It said, “YES.”
Morrolan said, “Aliera e’Kieron is the Dragon heir to the throne.”
That was news to me. I stared at Morrolan while I wondered at the ramifications of this.
The dragon turned its head so both its eyes were on Morrolan. After a moment it said, “WHERE STANDS THE CYCLE?”
Morrolan said, “It is the reign of the Phoenix.”
The dragon said, “YOU MAY BOTH PASS.”
It turned around (not a minor undertaking) and walked back out of sight. I relaxed. Loiosh emerged from my cloak and took his place on my right shoulder.
Our guide continued to lead us onward, and soon we were back in a more normal (ha!) landscape. I wondered how much time had actually passed for us since we’d arrived. Our clothing had pretty much dried before the rain and we’d had a meal. Four hours? Six?
There was a building ahead of us, and there seemed to be more people around, some in the colors of the House of the Dragon, others in purple robes.
“Morrolan, do you know the significance of those dressed in purple?”
“They are the servants of the dead.”
“Oh. Bitch of a job.”
“It is what happens to those who arrive in the Paths of the Dead but don’t make it through, or who die here.”
I shuddered, thinking of the Dragonlords we’d killed. “Is it permanent?”
“I don’t think so. It may last for a few thousand years, though.”
I shuddered again. “It must get old, fast.”
“I imagine. It is also used as punishment. It is likely what will happen to us if our mission fails.”
The building was still quite some distance in front of us, but I could see that it would have compared well to the Imperial Palace. It was a simple, massive cube, all grey, with no markings or decorations I could distinguish. It was ugly.
Our guide gestured toward it and said, “The Halls of Judgment.”
13
I held the world in my hands. There was a moment of incredible clarity, when the horizon stopped wavering, and I was deaf to rhythms and pulses. Everything held its breath, and my thought pierced the fabric of reality. I felt Loiosh’s mind together with mine as a perfectly tuned lant, and I realized that, except for my grandfather, he was the only being in the world that I loved.
Why was I doing this?
The scent of pine needles penetrated my thoughts, and everything seemed clean and fresh. It brought tears to my eyes and power to my hands.
AS WE APPROACHED THE building, it didn’t get any smaller. I think the area around me continued to change, but I wasn’t noticing. We came to an arch with another stylized dragon’s head, and our guide stopped there. He bowed to Morrolan, studiously ignoring me. I said, “It’s been a pleasure. Have a wonderful time here.”
His eyes flicked over me and he said, “May you be granted a purple robe.”
“Why, thanks,” I said. “You, too.”
We passed beneath the arch. We were in a sort of courtyard in front of doors I suspect our friend the dragon could have gone through without ducking. I saw other arches leading into it, about twenty of them.
Oh. No, of course. Make that exactly seventeen of them. There were several purple robes standing around in the courtyard, one of whom was approaching us. He made no comment, only bowed to us both, turned, and led us toward the doors.
It was a long way across the courtyard. I had a chance to think about all sorts of possibilities I didn’t enjoy contemplating. When we were before the doors they slowly and majestically swung open for us, with an assumed grandeur that seemed to work on me even though
I was aware of it.
“Stole one of your tricks,” I told Morrolan.
“It is effective, is it not?”
“Yeah.”
Back when the doors of Castle Black had opened, Lady Teldra had stood there to greet me. When the doors of the Halls of Judgment opened before us, there was a tall male Dragaeran in the dress of the House of the Lyorn—brown ankle-length skirt, doublet, and sandals—with a sword slung over his back.
He saw me and his eyes narrowed. Then he looked at the pair of us and they widened. “You are living men.”
I said, “How could you tell?”
“Good Lyorn,” said Morrolan, “we wish to present ourselves to the Lords of Judgment.”
He sort of smiled. “Yes, I suppose you do. Very well, follow me. I will present you at once.”
“I can hardly wait,” I muttered. No one responded.
I SPENT THE TWO weeks following Kynn’s death in Candletown, discovering just how much fun you can have while you’re worried sick; or, if you wish, just how miserable you can be while you’re living it up.
Then, one day while I was sitting on the beach quietly getting drunk, a waiter came up to me and said, “Lord Mawdyear?” I nodded, as that was close enough to the name I was using. He handed me a sealed message for which I tipped him lavishly. It read “Come back,” and my boss had signed it. I spent a few minutes wondering if it was faked, until Loiosh pointed out that anyone who knew enough to fake it knew enough to send someone to kill me right there on the beach. This sent a chill through me, but it also convinced me the message was genuine.
I teleported back the next morning, and nothing was said about what I thought must have been a miserable blunder. I found out, over the course of the next few months, that it hadn’t really been that bad a mistake. It was pretty much the policy to send the assassin out of town after he shined someone, especially during a war. I also found out that going to Candletown was a cliché; it was sometimes referred to as Killertown. I never went back there.
But there was something I noticed right away, and I still don’t really understand it. My boss knew I’d killed the guy, and Kragar certainly guessed it, but I don’t think many others even suspected. Okay, then why did everyone treat me differently?
No, it wasn’t big things, but just the way people I worked with would look at me; it was like I was a different person—someone worthy of respect, someone to be careful of.
Mind you, I’m not complaining; it was a great feeling. But it puzzled me then and it still does. I can’t figure out if rumors got around, or if my behavior changed in some subtle way. Probably a little of each.
But you know what was even more strange? As I would meet other enforcers who worked for someone or other in the strange world of the Jhereg, I would, from time to time, look at one and say to myself, “That one’s done ‘work.’” I have no idea how I knew, and I guess I can’t even guarantee I was right, but I felt it. And, more often than not, the guy would look at me and give a kind of half nod as if he recognized something about me, too.
I was seventeen years old, a human in the Dragaeran Empire, and I’d taken a lot of garbage over the years. Now I was no longer an “Easterner,” nor was I Dragaeran or even a Jhereg. Now I was someone who could calmly and coldly end a life, and then go out and spend the money, and I wasn’t going to have to take any crap anymore.
Which was a nice feeling while it lasted.
I WONDERED, WALKING THROUGH the Halls, if there were ever any dragons brought there for judgment. I mean, not only were the doors large enough to admit one, but the halls were, too. At any rate, the scale made me feel small and insignificant, which was probably the reason behind the whole thing.
Reason?
“Loiosh, who designed this place, anyway?”
“You’re asking me, boss? I don’t know. The gods, I suppose.”
“And if I just knew what that meant, I’d be fine.”
“Have you noticed that there isn’t any decoration? Nothing at all.”
“Hmmm. You’re right, Loiosh. But, on the other hand, what sort of mood would you pick if you were decorating this place?”
“A point.”
The place was nearly empty, save for a few purple robes coming or going, all with that same blank look. Seeing them made me queasy. I didn’t notice any side passages or doors, but I don’t think I was at my most observant. It was big and it was impressive. What can I say?
“Good day,” said someone behind us. We turned and saw a male Dragaeran in the full splendor of a Dragonlord wizard, complete with shining black and silver garb and a staff that was taller than he was. His smile was sardonic as he looked at Morrolan. I turned to see my companion’s expression. His eyes were wide. I’d now seen Morrolan wet, embarrassed, and startled. If I could just see him frightened, my life would be complete.
I said, “Are you certain it’s day?”
He turned his sardonic expression to me and sent me the most withering glare I’ve ever experienced. Several comments came to mind, but for once I couldn’t manage to get them out. This may have saved my life.
Morrolan said, “I salute you, Lord Baritt. I had thought you were yet living, I grieve to know—”
He snorted. “Time flows differently here. Doubtless when you left, I hadn’t been . . . .” He scowled and didn’t complete the sentence.
Morrolan indicated the surrounding wall. “You live within this building, Lord?”
“No, I merely do research here.”
“Research?”
“I suppose you wouldn’t be familiar with the concept.”
By this time I’d recovered enough to appreciate someone being contemptuous of Morrolan. Morrolan, on the other hand, didn’t appreciate it at all. He drew himself up and said, “My lord, if I have done something to offend you—”
“I can’t say much for your choice of traveling companions.”
Before Morrolan could respond, I said, “I don’t like it either, but—”
“Don’t speak in my presence,” said Baritt. As he said it, I found that I couldn’t; my mouth felt like it was filled with a whole pear, and I discovered that I couldn’t breathe. I hadn’t thought it possible to perform sorcery here. The Lyorn who was guiding me took a step forward, but at that moment I found I could breathe again. Baritt said “Jhereg” as if it were a curse. Then he spat on the floor in front of me and stalked away.
When he was gone I took a couple of deep breaths and said, “Hey, and here I’d thought he hated me because I’m an Easterner.”
Morrolan had no witty rejoinder for that. Our guide inclined his head slightly, from which I deduced that we were to follow him. We did.
A few minutes later he had led us to a big square entrance way, which was where the hall ended. He stopped outside it and indicated that we should continue through. We bowed to him and stepped forward into another world.
AFTER KYNN’S DEATH, AND its aftermath, I learned slowly. I trained in sorcery in hopes of being able to follow someone teleporting, but that turned out to be even harder than I’d thought.
I never again used Loiosh as a distraction, but he got better at other things, such as observing a target for me and making sure an area was free of Phoenix Guards or other annoyances.
The war between Rolaan and Welok lasted for several months, during which everyone was careful and didn’t go out alone. This was an education for me. I “worked” several more times during that period, although only once was it a direct part of the war as far as I know.
The mystery, though, is where, by all the gods, my money went. I ought to have been rich. The fee for assassination is high. I was now living in a nice comfortable flat (it was really nice—it had this great blue and white carpet and a huge kitchen with a built-in wood stove), but it didn’t cost all that much. I was eating well, and paying quite a bit for sorcery lessons, as well as paying a top fencing master, but none of these things comes close to accounting for all the income I was generating. I don’t gamble
a whole lot, which is a favorite means of losing money for many Jhereg. I just can’t figure it out.
Of course, some of it I can trace. Like, I met an Eastern girl named Jeanine, and we hung out together for most of a year, and it’s amazing how much you can spend on entertainment if you really put your mind to it. And there was a period when I was paying out a lot for teleports—like two or three a day for a couple of weeks. That was when I was seeing Jeanine and Constance at the same time and I didn’t want them finding out about each other. It ended because all the teleports were making me too sick to be of much good to either of them. I guess, in retrospect, that could account for quite a bit of the money, couldn’t it? Teleports don’t come cheap.
Still, I can’t figure it out. It doesn’t really matter, I suppose.
MY FIRST REACTION WAS that we’d stepped outside, and in a way I was right, but it was no outside I’d ever seen before. There were stars, such as my grandfather had shown me, and they were bright and hard, all over the place, and so many of them . . . .
Presently I realized that my neck was hurting and that the air was cold. Morrolan, next to me, was still gawking at the stars. I said, “Morrolan.”
He said, “I’d forgotten what they were like.” Then he shook his head and looked around. I did the same at just about the same time, and we saw, seated on thrones, the Lords of Judgment.
Two of them were right in front of us; others were off to the sides, forming what may have been a massive circle of thrones, chairs, and like that. Some of them were grouped close together, in pairs or trios, while others seemed all alone. The creature directly before me, perhaps fifty feet away, was huge and green. Morrolan began walking toward it. As we came closer, I saw that it was covered with scalelike hide, and its eyes were huge and deep-set. I recognized this being as Barlan, and an urge to prostrate myself came over me; I still have no idea why. I resisted.