The Book of Taltos

  He chuckled. “They making you nervous?”

  She nodded.

  “I suppose it’s starting to wear on you.”

  She nodded again and poured them each a glass of wine.

  When he hadn’t appeared after his usual few hours, the Dragons knocked on the door. When no one answered, they broke the door down. They found his lifeless and soulless body on the bed, a Morganti knife buried in his chest. They wondered why they hadn’t heard him scream, or the window opening. Treffa lay next to him, drugged and unconscious. They couldn’t figure out how the drugs had gotten into the wine, and Treffa was no help with any of it.

  They were suspicious of her, naturally, but were never able to prove that Treffa had actually taken money to set him up. She disappeared a few months later and is doing quite well to this day, and Treffa isn’t her name anymore, and I won’t tell you where she’s living.

  IT IS COMMONLY BELIEVED that if anyone had the strength to take hold of the great wheel that is the Cycle and physically move it, the time of the current House would pass, and the next would arrive. It is also commonly held that it would require enough strength to overcome all the weight contained by the forces of history, tradition, and will that keep the Cycle turning as it does. This being the case, it seems a moot point, especially when, as I stared at it, it was hard to imagine anyone with the strength to just move the bloody great wheel.

  That’s all it was, too. A big wheel stuck onto a wall in the middle of nowhere. On the wheel were engraved symbolic representations of all seventeen Houses. The Phoenix was at the top, the Dragon next in line, the Athyra having just passed. What a thrill it must be to be here when it actually changed, signaling the passing of another phase of Dragaeran history. At that point, either the Empress would step down, or she would have recently done so, or would soon do so, or perhaps she would refuse and blood would run in the Empire until the political and the mystical were once more in agreement. When would it happen? Tomorrow? In a thousand years?

  Everyone I’ve asked insists that this thing is the Cycle in every meaningful way, not merely its physical manifestation. I can’t make sense of that, but if you can, more power to you, so to speak.

  I glanced at Morrolan and Aliera, who also stared at the Cycle, awe on their faces.

  “Boss, the kelsch won’t last forever.”

  “Right, Loiosh. Thanks.”

  I said, “All right, folks. Whatever we’re going to do, we’d best be about it.”

  They looked at me, at each other, at the ground, then back at the Cycle. None of us knew what to do. I turned my back on them and walked back to look out over the sea again.

  I WON’T SAY THAT I’m haunted by the look in Raiet’s eyes in that last moment—when the Morganti dagger struck him—or his scream as his soul was destroyed. He deserved what happened to him, and that’s that.

  But I never got used to touching that weapon. It’s the ultimate predator, hating everything, and it would have been as happy to destroy me as Raiet. Morganti weapons scare me right down to my toes, and I’m never going to be happy dealing with them. But I guess it’s all part of the job.

  The whole thing gave me a couple of days of uneasy conscience in any case, though. Not, as I say, for Raiet; but somehow this brought home to me a thought that I’d been ignoring for over a year: I was being paid money to kill people.

  No, I was being paid money to kill Dragaerans; Dragaerans who had made my life miserable for more than seventeen years. Why shouldn’t I let them make my life pleasant instead? Loiosh, I have to say, was no help at all in this. He had the instincts of an eater of carrion and sometime hunter.

  I really didn’t know if I was creating justifications that would eventually break down or not. But a couple of days of wondering was all I could take. I managed to put it out of my mind, and, to be frank, it hasn’t bothered me since.

  I don’t know, maybe someday it will, and if so I’ll deal with it then.

  I DON’T KNOW HOW long I stood there, perhaps an hour, before Morrolan and Aliera came up behind me. Then the three of us watched the waves break for a few minutes. Behind us, the way we’d come, were the Paths of the Dead and the Halls of Judgment. To our right, beyond the Cycle, was a dark forest, through which lay the way out, for some of us.

  After a time Aliera said, “I won’t leave without Morrolan.”

  Morrolan said, “You are a fool.”

  “And you’re another for coming here when you knew you couldn’t get out alive.”

  “I can think of another fool, Loiosh.”

  “Another two, boss.”

  “That’s as may be,” said Morrolan. “But there is no need to make the venture useless.”

  “Yes there is. I choose to do so.”

  “It is absurd to kill yourself merely because—”

  “It is what I will do. No one, no one will sacrifice his life for me. I won’t have it. We both leave, or we both remain.”

  There was a cool breeze on the right side of my face. That way was home. I shook my head. Morrolan should have known better than to expect rationality from a Dragaeran, much less a Dragonlord. But then, he was one himself.

  Aliera said, “Go back, Vlad. I thank you for your help, but your task is finished.”

  Yes, Morrolan was a Dragonlord and a Dragaeran. He was also pompous and abrasive as hell. So why did I feel such a resistance to just leaving him? But what else could I do? There was no way to leave with him, and I, at least, saw no value in pointless gestures.

  Morrolan and Aliera were looking at me. I looked away. “Leave, Vlad,” said Morrolan. I didn’t move.

  “You heard him, boss. Let’s get out of here.”

  I stood there yet another minute. I wanted to be home, but the notion of just saying good-bye to Morrolan and walking away, well, I don’t know. It didn’t feel right.

  I’ve spent many fruitless minutes since then wondering what would have happened if the breeze hadn’t shifted just then, bringing with it the tang of salt and the smell of seaweed.

  Dead bodies and seaweed. I chuckled. Yeah, this was a place where that phrase was appropriate. Where had I first heard it? Oh, yeah, the bar. Ferenk’s. Drinking with Kiera.

  Kiera. Right. That. It just might do it. If there was only a way . . .

  Witchcraft?

  I looked at Morrolan and Aliera.

  “It’s crazy, boss.”

  “I know. But still—”

  “We don’t even know if we’re on the same world as—”

  “Maybe it doesn’t matter.”

  “What if it does?”

  “Boss, do you have any idea how much that will take out of you?”

  “They’ll have to carry me back.”

  “If it doesn’t work, they won’t be able to.”

  “I know.”

  Loiosh shut up, as he realized I wasn’t really listening to him. I dug in my pack and found my last kelsch leaf.

  Aliera said, “What is it, Vlad?”

  “An idea for getting Morrolan out of here. Will you two be willing to carry me if I can’t walk on my own?”

  Morrolan said, “What is it?”

  “Witchcraft,” I said.

  “How—”

  “I’m going to have to invent a spell. I’m not certain it can be done.”

  “I am a witch. Can I help?”

  I hesitated, then shook my head. “I have one more kelsch leaf left. I’m going to chew on it myself in order to get the energy to do the spell. If you help, who will carry us both out?”

  “Oh. What is the spell intended to do?”

  I licked my lips, realizing that I didn’t want to tell him.

  “Why not, boss?”

  “He’ll just say it can’t be done.”

  “Well, can it?”

  “We’ll find out.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve always wanted to test myself as a witch. Here’s my big chance.”

  “Boss, I’m serious. If you put that much into i
t and it doesn’t work it will—”

  “Kill me. I know. Shut up.”

  “And with the amount of energy you’ll have to pour into it you won’t be able to stay awake. And—”

  “Drop it, Loiosh.”

  To Morrolan I said, “Never mind. Wait here. I’m going to find a place to set this up. I’ll probably be near the Cycle, so stay away from there; I don’t want anyone around to distract me. When I’m done, if it works, I’ll find you.”

  “What if it doesn’t work?”

  “Then you’ll find me.”

  BRIBING TREFFA HAD cost quite a bit, as had the soundproofing spells and the escape, since I dealt directly with a sorceress who worked for the Left Hand, rather than going through Feet. Why? I don’t know. I mean, after hiring me, he wouldn’t turn around and shine me after I did the job. If word of that got around, no one would work for him again. But on the other hand, this killing was Morganti. If he had the chance to cleanly dispose of me by having a teleport go wrong, he probably wouldn’t take it, but why tempt him?

  In any case, by the time all was said and done, I’d spent a great deal, but I still had a great deal left. I decided not to live it up this time, because I didn’t want to call attention to myself. I didn’t want to leave town for the same reason. This killing made quite a splash, and that made me nervous, but I got over it.

  So far as I know, no one ever found out I’d done it. But once again, there were those who seemed to know. One of them was Welok the Blade, who was about as nasty as they come. I started working directly for him a few weeks later—doing collecting and trouble-shooting and keeping an eye on his people. I carefully set aside the money I’d earned, determined to invest it in something that would keep earning for me. Maybe even something legitimate.

  About a month after I started working for Welok, I was visiting my grandfather in South Adrilankha, and I met a human girl named Ibronka, who had the longest, straightest, blackest hair I’d ever seen, and eyes you could get lost in. I still hadn’t made my investment.

  Oh, well.

  AFTER GOING THIS FAR, I couldn’t back out. The three of us were going to leave together or not at all, and now there was a chance of success. If I’d wanted to pray just then, I would have prayed to my grandfather, not to Verta, because his guidance would have been more useful.

  I didn’t think he’d ever tried inventing a spell, though. Dammit, if sorcery worked around here, Morrolan could have simply caused the thing to appear from my flat. But then, if sorcery worked we could have just teleported out of here. No point in thinking about that.

  I selected a spot facing the Cycle. Why? I’m not sure. It seemed appropriate, and the apropos is a vital thing to a practicing witch.

  I started chewing on the leaf while I meditated, relaxing, preparing myself. When it had done as much for me as it was capable of, I spit it out.

  I took my pack off and opened it, then sat down. I wondered if the gods would stop me, then decided that if they were looking at me, they would have done something as soon as I began laying out the implements of the spell. It was amusing to be out of their sight, yet right in their backyard, so to speak.

  I studied the Cycle and tried to collect my courage.

  Waiting would just make things more difficult.

  I took a deep breath and began the spell.

  17

  I have a vague memory of a little girl shaking my shoulder, saying, “Don’t fall asleep. You’ll die if you fall asleep. Stay awake.”

  When I opened my eyes there was no one there, so it may have been a dream. On the other hand, to dream one must be sleeping, and if I was sleeping . . .

  I don’t know.

  Flap flap, peck peck.

  I knew what that was. My eyes opened. I spoke aloud. “It’s all right. I’m back.”

  I DON’T THINK I’VE ever had to work so hard to stand up. When I’d finally managed, I felt the way Aliera must have, and I really wished I had more kelsch leaves to chew on. The world spun around and around. Don’t you just hate it when it does that?

  I started walking, then heard something, very distant. It gradually got more urgent in tone, so I stopped and listened. It was Loiosh, saying, “Boss! Boss! They’re back the other way.”

  I got myself turned around, which wasn’t as easy as you might think, and stumbled off in the direction Loiosh told me was the right one. After what seemed like hours I found them, sitting where I’d left them. Morrolan noticed me first, and I saw him moving toward me. All of his actions seemed slowed down, as did Aliera’s as she rose and came toward me. I started to fall, which also seemed to happen slowly, and then the two of them were supporting me.

  “Vlad, are you all right?”

  I mumbled something and held on to them.

  “Vlad? Did it work?”

  Work? Did what work? Oh, yes. I had more to do. Wait, the vial . . . no, I had it in my hand. Good move, Vlad. I held it up. A dark, dark liquid in a clear vial with a rubber stopper.

  “What is it?” asked Aliera.

  Formulating an answer seemed much too difficult. I gathered my strength, looked at Morrolan, and said, “Bare your arm.”

  “Which one?” he asked.

  I shook my head, so he shrugged and bared his left arm.

  “Knife,” I said.

  Morrolan and Aliera exchanged looks and shrugs, and then Morrolan put a knife into my left hand. I gestured for him to come closer and, with some hesitation, he did.

  I forced my hand to remain steady as I cut his biceps. I handed the vial to Aliera and said, “Open.” I couldn’t bring myself to watch her, though I did curse myself for not having had her open it before I cut Morrolan.

  I have no idea how she managed it without letting me fall, but she did, and after a while she said, “It’s done.”

  I grabbed Morrolan’s arm and held the vial against the cut. I told him, “You’re a witch. Make the liquid go into your arm.”

  He looked at me, puzzled, then licked his lips. I suddenly realized that he was deciding whether he trusted me. If I’d had the strength, I’d have laughed. Him wondering if he should trust me? But I guess he decided to, and he also chose to assume I knew what I was doing. More fool he on that point, I thought to myself. My eyes closed. Aliera shook me and I opened them. When I looked up, the vial was empty and Morrolan was holding it in his hand, staring at it with a mildly inquiring expression. I hoped Kiera hadn’t needed it for anything important.

  “Let’s go home,” I said.

  “Vlad,” asked Morrolan, “just what was that?”

  “Home,” I managed. There was a pause, during which they might have been looking at each other. Then, each with an arm around me, we set off for the woods.

  I CAN’T RECALL MAKING a decision to set up on my own. I was in a certain situation, and I got out of it the best way I could.

  The situation?

  Well, when the war between Welok and Rolaan finally ended, there were a number of shakedowns. Nielar, my first boss, got rid of most of what he owned because he would have had to fight to keep it and didn’t think he could manage. I respect that. Courage is all well and good, but you can’t earn when you’re dead, and it takes a certain kind of intelligence to know when to back off.

  I had many different employers in the months after Nielar, but when everything settled down I was working for a guy named Tagichatn, or Takishat, or something like that; I’ve never been able to get his name exactly right.

  In any case, I never liked him and he never liked me. Most of my earnings were straight commissions for collections and such, and those came pretty rarely around then. I did a few assassinations for people to whom my reputation had spread, which kept me living comfortably, but assassinations also pull in a lot of pressure; I like to have income that comes from things that aren’t quite so risky.

  I could have left and found employment with someone else, but I’d only been around for a few years by then and I didn’t know that many people. So the best way o
ut of the situation turned out to be killing Tagijatin.

  KEEP WALKING. STAY AWAKE.

  A dim glow seemed to come from the ground, or perhaps from the air around us, I don’t know. It was almost enough light to see by. How long were we walking through that forest? Who can say? My time sense was completely screwed up by then.

  Stay awake. Keep walking.

  From time to time we’d stop, and Aliera and Morrolan would have a hushed conversation about which way to go. I think they were afraid we were walking in circles. When this happened Loiosh would say, “Tell them that way, boss,” and I’d gesture in the indicated direction. I guess by this time they were trusting me. The gods alone know why.

  At one point Morrolan said, “I feel odd.”

  Aliera said, “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure. Something strange.”

  “Vlad, what did you give him?”

  I shook my head. Talking was just too much work. Besides, what had I given him? Oh, right. The blood of a goddess, according to Kiera. Why had I done it? Because the only other choice was letting Morrolan die.

  Well, so what? What had he ever done for me? He’d saved my life, but that was because I was working for him. Friend? Nonsense. Not a Dragaeran. Not a Dragonlord, in any case.

  Then why? It didn’t matter; it was over. And I was too tired to think about it, anyway.

  Keep walking. Stay awake.

  Later, Aliera said, “I’m beginning to feel it, too. Want to rest?”

  Morrolan said, “If we stop, Vlad will fall asleep, and we’ll lose him.”

  That seemed like sufficient answer for Aliera, which surprised me. But then, why were they working so hard to save me? And why had I been so certain they would? They were Dragonlords and I was a Jhereg; they were Dragaerans and I was human. I couldn’t make it make sense.

  Aliera said, “How are you feeling?”

  I couldn’t answer, but it turned out she was speaking to Morrolan. He said, “I’m not certain how to describe it. It’s as if I am lighter and heavier at the same time, and the air tastes different. I wonder what he gave me?”