Dragon

  She laughed suddenly. "You'd make a good tactician. I don't know about strategist, but certainly a tactician."

  "I don't think I want to know why," I said.

  "All right, then. Back to 'ought' and 'important.' They're moral judgments, aren't they?"

  "Is that illegal in this dominion?"

  "Not at all. But, traditionally, they're considered too important to be trusted to foot soldiers."

  "Ah, tradition," I said. "Well, do you believe that?"

  "Of course not," she said. "At least, no one can help thinking about the why's of what we're fighting for. And it does no harm, as long as you don't think about it just when someone is trying to skewer you."

  "Well then," I said. "Let's get down to specifics. Fornia is as power-hungry as—well, he's power-hungry." I'd been about to say "as Dragons always are," but caught myself. "So is Morrolan. Their lands are next to each other, and Morrolan wants to make sure Fornia isn't able to threaten him, and, of course, Fornia doesn't want his lands invaded, so they make up a pretext of insult, and a few tens of thousand of us start hacking at each other. How do we fit that into 'ought' and 'important'?"

  "You're here for much the same reason, aren't you? Fornia offended you, so you're going to kill a few perfect strangers?"

  "I'm one man. I'm not commanding an army to do my killing for me."

  "You think Morrolan should challenge him to a duel?"

  "No, I think Morrolan should kill him."

  "How? Assassination?"

  "Why not? Anyone can be assassinated."

  "So I've heard," she said dryly. I expected her to start in on the cant about how horrid it was to assassinate an enemy compared to honorable battle, and I was all set with a tirade about the death of one versus the death of hundreds or thousands, but she didn't go there. She said, "And, if he succeeded, what would then happen? Do you imagine Fornia has no friends, no family, none who would take offense?"

  "If no one knew—"

  "Is that how it usually works, my dear Jhereg? When someone is killed in your House, is it not usually known who benefits from his death?"

  I didn't have a good answer; she was right. In the Jhereg, you usually wanted it known who had the guy shined; that way it served as a warning to the next guy who might think about committing whatever offense had put a polish on the victim.

  "All right," I said. "I concede the point. Assassination would be impractical in cases like this."

  "Well, then?"

  I grinned. "There's always negotiation."

  "Certainly," she said. "As long as you can threaten war, you'll always be able to negotiate."

  "I was kidding."

  "I know. I was being serious."

  "You'd make a good enforcer. I might not want to give you your own territory, but I'd certainly hire you to collect debts."

  For an instant she looked annoyed, then she gave me a smile and said, "All right. Well taken."

  "Who is that?" I said, gesturing with my eyes.

  "Who? Oh. His name is Dortmond. I'm not sure what line he is of. He's been in the company for most of two hundred years. He certainly knows how to campaign, doesn't he?"

  "Except that he has to carry it all."

  "He's big enough. It all collapses, and I believe he's been known to bribe the wagoners to bring some of his excess along."

  The man in question was a couple of tents down from us. He was, indeed, a very large man, of middle years, with long hair and good features for a Dragon. He had his cap pulled down over his eyes and was sitting in front of his tent on what seemed to be a canvas-and-wood chair, complete with back. His feet were on a small footstool of similar construction, and by his elbow was a table, on which sat a wine bottle; a goblet was in his hand, and he was smoking a large black pipe. I watched him for a moment. The complete soldier, all his spare energy devoted to wresting luxury from the tedium of camp life.

  "You should see the inside of his tent," said Virt.

  "Oh?"

  "Double-sized cot with extra padding, pillows, and bug netting. He's painted the bug netting, too; it shows a mountain scene with a wolf howling."

  "That is a lot to carry."

  "The cot is awfully comfortable, though."

  "How—never mind."

  Virt didn't answer the question I'd almost asked, but silently watched him along with me. He probably expected to serve as a foot soldier all his life, perhaps someday reaching the rank of corporal. He gave the impression of perfect contentment with his lot. Virt seemed to share my thoughts; eventually she said, "There are worse lives than that of the soldier, you know."

  "Evidently," I said. "But you'll never be content with it."

  "Me? Oh, no. If I'm killed in battle, it'll be on the way up the Tanks."

  "And what about Napper?"

  "Him? You know, I think he's every bit as contented with his life as Dortmond."

  "What about her?" I asked, gesturing toward a slim lady who had just walked up to Dortmond. "She looks, oh, I don't know. Peaceful. Nice. Friendly. Something like that."

  "Neera e'Lanya. She is. As sweet a girl as you'd ever meet. She's the peacemaker whenever two people in the squad start getting on each other's nerves."

  "And now you're going to say that, in battle, she turns into a berserker, right? Dragon rage, spitting, killing with her bare hands?"

  "You got it."

  "She's really like that?"

  "She really is."

  "Dragons are weird," I said.

  After the evening meal, such as it was, I was called to the Captain's tent once more, and once more the Captain seemed a bit nervous, and once more Morrolan was there.

  "Well, Vlad," he said. "Are you prepared to strike another blow for freedom?"

  "Is that what we're doing?"

  "No, but it sounds better than helping a wealthy and powerful aristocrat maintain his wealth and power."

  "Have you been listening in on my conversations?"

  "No, why?"

  "Never mind. What do you want me to do?"

  "Fornia," said Morrolan, "likes to send troops into battle with a full belly. It—"

  "The dastard," I said.

  "—would be to our advantage, then, if that proved to be impossible."

  "I imagine. You're expecting them to attack?"

  "It seems likely. They've brought up a number of units, and ours are still arriving. The longer they wait, the stronger we are. Mill's brigade should be arriving sometime tomorrow morning between the eighth hour and the ninth; if they're here before the action begins, we should be able to mount a nice counterattack."

  I nodded and didn't express my thought about how "nice" a counterattack was likely to be. I said, "All right. Yeah, I'll interfere with their breakfast. You have something specific in mind?"

  He did. I laughed, though it wouldn't be all that funny to the soldiers on the other side. I said, "Won't that just put them in a bad mood?"

  "Yes. No doubt their officers will blame it on us and give them good rousing speeches. But it'll also disorganize them and delay their attack. And, of course, it won't help their morale to realize that we can get in and out of their camp any time we like."

  "Well, that's what I signed on for," I said. "Where are they?"

  "Downriver about half a mile."

  "Right along the river?"

  "Yes. For the same reason we are."

  "We could make use of that, you know. We could mess with their drinking water or—"

  "There are traditions involved, Vlad; we don't do that. Officially."

  "Officially?"

  "I mean nothing organized. But I've never heard of a unit that was upriver of the enemy who could resist a few pranks, at least."

  "You must tell me about them."

  "Another time."

  "All right. In any case, it should be easy enough, with them right next to the river. How many of them are there?"

  "More than there are of us," he said. "But then, we're dug in pretty good. Why do yo
u need to know?"

  "I have to know how much I'm after, don't I?"

  "Oh. Yes." He did some calculation. "More than one wagon, probably more than two, fewer than six."

  "Ah. An exact science, I see."

  "Plus, of course, whatever they've already taken off the wagons."

  "Right. Plus that."

  "They won't have unloaded much; they won't know exactly when they'll be moving out. Of course, your target will be toward the rear."

  "Okay," I said. I did some calculating, trying to figure out the best way to go about it; difficult, without complete information. "It'll be easier if I have some help. A lot easier."

  The Captain spoke for the first time: "How much help?"

  "Two should do it. Just extra hands to speed matters up."

  "I don't want to lose valuable troops."

  "Glad to hear it. I doubt they want to be lost. I know I don't."

  He started to respond, glanced at Morrolan, cleared his throat, and said, "Perhaps some of your tent-mates, to keep the gossip down."

  "They'd do."

  "Who's your corporal?"

  "Rascha."

  "Very well, I'll speak with her."

  "Good enough," I said. "I'll set off around midnight."

  He nodded. Loiosh said, "This should be fun, Boss."

  "Sure, Loiosh. Maybe you'll get a promotion out of it."

  I went back to my tent and pulled my cloak out of my satchel. Virt and Napper were sitting in front of the fire, sharpening their weapons. Aelburr was inside, catching a nap. He opened one eye and said, "Not going to sleep like a sane person?"

  "A sane person wouldn't be here."

  A corner of his mouth twitched and he went back to sleep. I stepped out of the tent and sat down next to the others.

  "Nice night," said Virt.

  It was, actually. I hadn't noticed. I realized that I didn't notice the weather unless it was bad. Napper, however, said, "She means she doesn't have picket duty tonight."

  "How 'bout you?" I said.

  "No. Probably tomorrow, though."

  "Tomorrow," said Virt, "we'll be somewhere else. Either up-river or downriver."

  "There will still be picket duty, though. And, most likely, worse weather."

  "True enough," I said, because I agreed with him. I checked the various goodies in my cloak, then checked the time and found that I had a few hours to wait, so I set about sharpening my blade.

  A little later Rascha came by. She gave me a funny look, worked her mouth a couple of times like she was having trouble talking, then she said, "Aelburr! Virt!"

  Virt said, "I'm right here, you know."

  Aelburr poked his head out and said, "Yeah?"

  "You're both assigned to Taltos here for tonight."

  I felt them looking at me while I studied the top of the tent in front of me, just to see if it was straight.

  "What is it?" said Virt.

  "He'll explain," said Rascha with distaste, and moved along quickly.

  They both gave me inquiring looks. So did Napper. The top of the tent was reasonably straight. I said, "It's nothing much. I've been asked to cook tomorrow."

  Napper made a grimace. Virt said, "There's something you're not telling us."

  "Yeah, well. I'll explain later."

  "How much later?" said Aelburr. "Is this going to interfere with my sleep schedule?"

  "Think of it as picket duty. Sort of."

  The three of them exchanged glances. "All right," said Virt. "When are you going to explain?"

  "Around midnight, we're going to take a walk. We'll go past our own pickets. Then I'll explain."

  "Ah," said Aelburr. "An adventure." He didn't look pleased.

  Virt said, "I don't know how good I'd be at sneaking around."

  "You don't have to be either silent or invisible; you just have to not be heard sneaking or seen skulking."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Once we get to, uh, where we're going—"

  "I like the sound of that."

  "—you hide behind any handy objects, but in getting to them you just walk. Don't crawl, and don't try to walk silently. If there's any of that to be done, I'll do it. And you'll be going without your swords."

  "How did we get so lucky?" said Virt.

  I shrugged. "You have the good fortune to bunk with me. Not only do you get to listen to me snore, you also get to go and get killed with me."

  Napper cleared his throat and looked at me with narrowed eyes.

  "Sure," I said. "You can come, too."

  He nodded.

  Soon after midnight we set out, creeping along the river. At roughly the halfway point between the pickets, I stopped and sketched out the plan in a whisper; then I motioned them to follow me before they could ask questions I didn't want to answer or, more important, think about what we were doing. Having them thinking would do no one any good.

  Loiosh spotted the enemy pickets and guided us past them. I don't think any of my little band figured out what Loiosh was up to; they just followed me. That was best. Once past the pickets, we had to remain hidden until Loiosh and I could identify the cook-tent. We entered the enemy camp and I had them wait while Loiosh and I searched. The supply wagons were near the mess-tent, which was both good and bad for my purposes. The cook-tent was less than thirty yards from the river, which was good.

  "Well? Are they guarded?"

  "Four guards, Boss. Moving rightwise around the wagons and the tent. You want to try the same trick we used last time? That was fun."

  "No. Too much danger they figured it out. And I won't discuss your idea of 'fun'."

  "What then?"

  "We wait"

  "Clever, Boss. Do you think if I had opposable thumbs I could come up with plans like that?"

  "Shut up, Loiosh."

  I returned to where my compatriots were hidden, and, in the flickering half-light of the enemy campfires I indicated that we would just be sitting there for a while. I couldn't see their expressions. I was just as glad.

  It was neither warm nor pleasant, but they were used to waiting for action, and, for that matter, so was I. We waited a little more than two hours for the guard to change, assuring us of several hours before they were relieved again. I had their movements figured out. And there had been no one checking on them. Loiosh said, "If this had been your operation, Boss, you'd have gotten all the details before you went to work."

  "If this had been my operation, Loiosh, I would have hired someone else to do it."

  I signaled to my temporary squadron that they should stay there, and I moved a little closer to the guards. I drew a dart from my cloak, waited for the guard to pass by me, then threw the dart into his back. He cursed.

  "What is it?" said someone.

  "Something bit me."

  "Bees sleep at night."

  "Well, that makes me feel better."

  "I'm just saying—"

  "I better see the surgeon; I'm starting to feel queasy."

  "You have any allergies?"

  "Not that I know of. What is there that bites around here?"

  He didn't get an answer, because the woman he'd been talking to was out cold by this time. At least out cold, maybe dead, because a blow to the top of the head with the hard pommel of a dagger can kill, even if you don't intend it to. Fortunes of war and all that. And then, as the man succumbed and collapsed, I stuck a dart into the woman to be certain—the poison on the dart probably wouldn't kill her, but it wouldn't make her feel any better, and, in any case, neither of them would wake up any time soon. I hoped I hadn't killed either of them; I hate killing people I haven't been paid for. Were this a Jhereg operation, it wouldn't have come up. Jhereg operations are cleaner.

  So, okay, you don't need the details; I took care of the other two guards as well, and I didn't kill either of them for sure, though I may have hit one a bit too hard …

  Oh, skip it. I went back to the others and motioned for them to follow me.

  The rest of th
e job involved one decision: Was it safer and easier going to the water or from the water? One was quicker, the other safer; I opted for quicker. I was fairly certain I could vanish into the night if by chance I was seen, but I doubted my companions could. I called them close and whispered, "If there's an alarm, we go straight into the river, drop everything, and swim downstream as far and as fast as we can, okay? Remember to get rid of your boots."

  They nodded. I didn't think they were very pleased with the prospect. We entered the mess-tent and took care of business there, which took only a few minutes. While we did so, I had Loiosh smell the wagons so he could tell me which ones we were interested in.

  "Three of them, Boss."

  "Good show."

  I left the tent first and looked around in spite of Loiosh's assurance that all was clear, then I led my little band over to the wagons and pointed out the ones we wanted. There was a little more light here, and I could see them wondering how I knew. I resolved not to tell them.

  We dumped kerosene over them. Now was when we had to be fast, because no one is going to pay much attention to someone half glimpsed who is moving about the camp as if he belongs there, but the smell of kerosene is strong and sets off alarms in anyone.

  It only took a minute or so to drench the wagons, then I signaled that we should retreat back toward our own camp. Virt looked a question at me, presumably, How are we going to set them on fire? I smiled back at her and led the way.

  We made it past the pickets without incident, at which point Virt said, "How are you going to start the fire from here?"

  "Oh, I don't know." I picked a stick, drew on my link to the Orb, and started it burning. "I'll think of something," I said, and handed it to Loiosh, who flew off into the night.

  They stared in wonderment for a moment; none of them, I think, had any previous clue of Loiosh's intelligence. Just for fun, I led them past our own pickets.

  Once back in camp, all three of them reacted as I should have expected: laughter bordering on the hysterical, which was a little terrifying in Napper's case; and, along with the near hysteria, an unreasonable desire to continue being silent, as if the habit had been ingrained for life in the few intense hours.

  Eventually they quieted down, and then Aelburr whispered, "Hope they like toast," and they all burst into giggles again, with hands clapped over mouths to keep it quiet, which, of course, made it even funnier. I found myself laughing with them, until we were informed that if we didn't quiet down at once we'd be put on report. Napper, tears streaming from his eyes, tried to whisper something that struck him as funny about that, but couldn't get it out, and the effort made him laugh even harder.