Basic Survival Skills
TWO STONY-FACED DRAGONS, EACH wearing the gold cloak of the Phoenix and a headband bearing an Iorich, delivered Cawti to the steps of the Iorich Wing of the Imperial Palace, a half hour’s walk from where I had left the Empress. When they first appeared, each holding one of her arms, I almost put them down right there, but Loiosh spoke to me sharply. They released her on the bottom step, backed up, bowed to her once, turned together, and walked up again without a backward glance.
I stood three feet from her, looking in vain for signs of what she’d been through. Her eyes were clear and sharp, her expression grim, but she appeared unharmed. She stood for a moment, then her eyes focused on me. “Vlad,” she said. “Are you responsible for this?” She held up her right hand, which contained a rolled-up parchment.
“I guess so,” I said. “What’s that? A pardon?”
“A release. It says we concede your innocence and don’t do it again.”
“At least you’re out.”
“I could have been out before, if I’d wanted to be.”
“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
She smiled and nodded, being more understanding than I’d expected. “Perhaps it’s for the best.”
I shrugged. “I thought so, when you broke me out.”
“Hardly the same thing,” she said.
“Maybe not. How was it?”
“Tedious.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t worse than that. Would you like to come home?”
“Yes. Very much. I’d like to bathe, and eat something hot, and then—”
I waited. “And then what?” I asked after a moment.
“And then back to work.”
“Ah. Of course. Shall we walk, or be sick?”
She considered. “Do you know, before the Interregnum, when teleportation was more difficult, there were Teckla who earned their livelihood driving people around the city behind horses and donkeys. Or sometimes they used only their feet, pulling small coaches. They wore harnesses like they were horses or donkeys themselves.”
“I don’t like horses. What are donkeys?”
“I’m not certain. Avariety of horse, I think.”
“Then I don’t like them, either. You’ve been reading history, I see.”
“Yes. Sorcery has changed our whole world and is still changing it.”
“It has indeed.”
“Let us walk.”
“Very well.”
And we did.
I FOUND SOME DRIED black mushrooms, poured boiling water over them, and let them soak. After about twenty minutes I cut them up with scallions, leeks, a little dill, various sorts of peppers, and thin strips of kethna. I quick-fried the whole thing with garlic and ginger while Cawti sat on the kitchen chair, watching me cook. Neither of us spoke until the food was done. We had it over some pasta my grandfather had made. I had a few strawberries that were still good, so I put them in a palaczinta with a paste made from finely ground rednuts, cinnamon, sugar, and a bit of lime juice. We had that with a rare strawberry liqueur Kiera had given me, having found it in a liquor store she was visiting after hours.
“How,” I said, “can you stay away from a man who can cook like this?”
“Rigid self-control,” she said.
“Ah.”
I poured us each some more liqueur and set the plates on the floor for the jhereg. I leaned the chair back, sipped, and studied Cawti. Despite her bantering tone, there was no light of humor in her eyes. There hadn’t been for some time. I said, “What would I have to do to keep you?”
She looked at the table. “I don’t know, Vladimir. I’m not sure there’s anything, anymore. I’ve changed.”
“I know. Do you like what you’ve become?”
“I’m not certain. Whatever it is, it hasn’t finished happening yet. I don’t know if we can change together.”
“You know I’m willing to try almost anything.”
“Almost?”
“Almost.”
“What won’t you do?”
“Ask me and we’ll see.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
This was another conversation we’d had before, with variations and embellishments. I went into the other room, next to the window so I could hear the street musicians outside. I had thrown them a bag of coins now and again, so they often played right below the window; it was one of the things I liked about the place. I threw them a bag of coins and listened for a while. I remembered how it felt to walk down the streets with her, feeling her shoulder touch mine. It had made me feel taller, somehow. I remembered meals at Valabar’s, and klava in a little place where we made sculpture from empty cups and the sugar bowl. I made myself stop remembering, and just listened to the music.
A little later Aibynn returned, his drum carefully wrapped in thick, soft cloth. He set it against the wall and sat down.
I said, “How did it go in court today?”
“Great,” he said. “The Empress wants us back.”
“Congratulations.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Recovering my wife.”
“Oh.” He looked over at her, sitting on the longchair and reading her paper. “Good thing you got her.”
She smiled at him, stood up, and said, “I believe I will bathe now.”
“Mind if I watch?” I said.
She turned the smile toward me. “Yes,” she said, and walked into the bathroom. I heard the sound of wood being put into the stove and of water being put on to boil. Aibynn began playing his drum, so I couldn’t hear the rustle of fabric and the splashing, which was just as well, I suppose. His fingers were a blur, the beater was another. The drum hummed, then moaned, then sang, with pops and clicks emerging as if they were part of the room. I fell into it and managed not to think for a while. Maybe I should learn to drum.
An hour later she came out in her red robe, Fenarian embroidery around the bottom, tied with a white cloth. The combination enhanced her dark eyes. She sat down again in the longchair. I spoke over the low moan of Aibynn’s drum. “Are you going back to South Adrilankha tomorrow?”
“Yes. As long as I’m out, I’m going to work to force the Empire to release Kelly and the rest of our people.”
“Do you think you can?”
“I don’t see any other option.”
I thought about the Empress, about being bound in cords of necessity, and said, “Do you know what they say about cornering a dzur?”
“Yes, I do. What do they say about killing thousands of people in a war that isn’t any of our business? What do they say about incarcerating us in their dungeons? What do they say about starving us into submission? What do they say about their Phoenix Guards beating and killing us?”
“Apoint,” I said.
“I’ll be gone all day tomorrow.”
“Yes, I suppose you will.”
“Good night, Vlad.”
“Good night, Cawti.”
She went into the bedroom. I moved over to the long-chair and sat down on the soft darrskin, stretched over a hardwood frame. It was still warm where she’d sat in it. Aibynn stopped playing, looked at me, expressed a wish that I’d sleep without dreaming, then put his drum down and went into the blue room. I stared out at the night through the window and felt the warm breeze that smelled just a little of the sea. Loiosh and Rocza flew over and sat on my lap. I scratched their respective chins, and presently I fell asleep.
I HAD A DREAM I don’t really remember, which is almost the same as not dreaming. I think the growing light in the room and the voice in my head were both worked into it. The ugly taste in my mouth was not. I hate talking to people, even psionically, before I’ve had a chance to rinse my mouth out. “Who is it?”
“It’s your trusty and true assistant.”
“Joy. What is it, Kragar?”
“Glowbug just got offered six thousand for looking the other way while some nice fellow sends you on to your next life.”
“Six thousand? Just for looking the other way? Verra! I’ve come up in the world.”
“I get the impression that he was tempted.”
“He’d be stupid if he wasn’t. Why didn’t he take it?”
“He thinks you’re lucky. On the other hand, he’s worried.”
“Sensible guy. Let me wake up and I’ll get back to you.”
“Okay.”
I rinsed out my mouth and gave myself a quick wash. “I think we’re in trouble this time, Loiosh.”
“It’s a lot of money, boss. Someone’s bound to go for it.”
“Yep.”
I started water for my morning klava and checked on the other occupants of the house. Cawti was gone, Aibynn was still sleeping. I put a log into the stove and used sorcery to light it, then set a couple of my rolls in it, got out butter and some ginger preserves. I poured the water over the ground klava, took the rolls out, prepared them, dumped heavy cream and honey in the klava, sat down, ate, drank, and thought.
Someone with the resources Boralinoi had could get me, eventually. Sooner or later, someone on my staff would give. Hell, with the kind of money he was throwing around, I might have sold out one of my own bosses at one time. Personal loyalty only gets you so far in this business; cash gets you further. There were three ways I could think of to prevent him from buying someone off and setting me up. The first, to kill Boralinoi before he could get to me, was a fine idea but impractical; it would take two or three days, at least, to even get all the information on him that I would need. For the second, outbidding him, I just didn’t have the resources. That left the third, which would have several potential repercussions that needed serious consideration. I had another roll.
I took my time eating and thinking. When I was done, I put the plate into the bucket, drew some more water, and got sticky stuff off my face and hands.
“Kragar. Kragar. Kragar.”
“Who is it?”
“Master Mustache himself. When can you have everyone in the office?”
“What does ‘everyone’ mean this time, Vlad?”
“All my enforcers, Melestav, you.”
“Is it urgent enough that they should break off whatever they’re doing?”
“Might as well. There isn’t any time of day or night when some of them won’t be busy doing something.”
“I guess. How ’bout an hour?”
“I’ll see you then.”
“Want an escort?”
“No. Just make sure there’s no one around the office who might want to do me injury.”
“Okay, boss. We’ll be there in an hour.”
I finished dressing, made certain of all of my concealed weaponry, and collected both Loiosh and Rocza. Aibynn was up by then, but I was pretty distracted so we didn’t converse much. I send Loiosh outside first to make sure the street was clear, then carefully teleported to a spot within a quick dash of my office, but that held possibilities for other escapes if that route was blocked. It turned out to be unnecessary; except for the usual wave of nausea, the teleport was uneventful. I ducked inside the psychedelics shop that was a front for the gambling room that was a front for my office, and there I waited until I felt a little better. I went back and into my office.
They were there, twelve enforcers, Kragar, and Melestav. We were crammed into the area outside of my office and Kragar’s, in front of Melestav’s desk. I sat on the edge of his desk and considered the fourteen killers here assembled. Glowbug squatted against the wall, looking intense. Melestav, whose desk I’d usurped, stood near me protectively, looking at the others as if he wasn’t quite sure I was safe, which was possible. There was Chimov, in the middle, waiting patiently. And the others.
Sticks would have grabbed a chair in front, and his long legs would have been stretched out to the side, his arms folded, and he would have been looking curious and ironic. An anger began to build up inside of me, but I had no time for it now; I concentrated on those who were there. These were the men who kept my business going, who, just by existing, prevented Jhereg with hungry eyes from creeping into my area or trying to push me around. These were the men who took turns guarding my back when I’d walk around my area, and inspecting meeting places to make certain everything was safe. If I couldn’t count on them, I might as well kill myself.
For the first time, as I studied them studying me, it seemed odd that there were no women among them. It has been Jhereg custom, as long as the Organization has existed, that most of the women were sorcerers, and worked in what was referred to as the Left Hand of the Jhereg, or, informally, the Bitch Patrol. When they didn’t refer to us as the Right Hand of the Jhereg, they had many colorful names for us that I see no need to go into. The two organizations cooperate, but there is no love lost between them. Once, many years before, I’d been told by an Oracle that my own left hand would bring me to the brink of ruin, and I’d wondered if the Oracle referred to the Left Hand of the Jhereg.
But I digress.
“First of all,” I said, “let me tell you what’s going on, as far as I can tell. The gentleman who’s after my head this time is much bigger than anyone who’s been after it before. He has the resources to offer six thousand to anyone who will just move aside and let me get it, not to mention what he’s willing to pay to the man with the knife. On the other hand, the last thing he wants is a war, so I don’t think he’s going to be going after any of you directly.
“This,” I went on, “leaves each of you with several choices. You can, of course, sell me out. Pretty tempting, this time. I hope to make it less so in a moment. Two, you can continue business as usual and hope I can come out on top yet again, unlikely as that seems. Or, third, you can get out while you’re still alive. That is what I wish to discourage.”
I paused and looked about the room once more. No change in any expression, and—where was Kragar? Oh, there. Good. “This entire affair will run its course, I think, in a very few days. At the end of that time, if I win, you will all be doing at least as well as you do now, maybe better. If I lose, of course, things won’t look so good.
“None of you will be protecting me, because I will not be going around with any protection.” That caused a few eyes to widen. “In fact, I will not be going around at all. I will be hiding, and Kragar will run things, though I’ll be in touch with him. This will remove the temptation to sell me out, because you won’t be able to do so. It will remove the danger that you’ll be taken down in an attempt on me, because, if there is such an attempt, you won’t be there. This will begin at once, at the end of this meeting.
“So all I’m asking, gentlemen, is that you keep working for a few days and see how it all shakes out. I think the potential gains are worth the risks. Any questions?”
There were none. “Fair enough. Let Kragar know if you want out. That’s all.” I stood and walked into my office, moving abruptly just in case someone had been bought off and thought he could get out alive in the confusion. I sat behind my desk, feeling as if all my senses were sharpened, so I noticed Kragar as he came in. I said, “Well?”
“They’re all sticking.”
“Good. What do you think of the whole thing?”
“Nice of you to warn me in advance about my new responsibilities, Vlad.”
“What new responsibilities? It’s nothing more than you’ve been doing for most of the last year, anyway.”
“I guess. Do you know where you’re going?”
“I’m not certain. Probably Castle Black. We both know how hard it is to dig someone out of there.”
“And we both know it can be done.”
“True, true. I’m still thinking about it.”
He nodded and looked thoughtful. “As far as I can tell, they’re all taking it pretty well.”
“That’s good. Guess what your next set of orders is?”
He sighed. “Find out everything there is to know about dear Lord Boralinoi. And you want it yesterday.”
“Good guess.”
“It’s lucky I started work on it yesterday, or it might have taken longer.”
“You mean you’ve got it?”
“No, but I’ve started. Another day or two and I should have it.”
“Good. Hurry.”
“I know.”
“Any news of the war?”
“You have better sources than I do. Last I heard they were getting the fleet together in Northport. There’s lots of activity at the harbor, in any case.”
“But no new disasters?”
“A couple more freighters sunk, and there’s a rumor of a convoy being attacked by some ships from Elde, but I don’t know if it’s true.”
I nodded. “How about South Adrilankha?”
He looked uncomfortable. “Not good, Vlad. While you were off having tea with the Empress, there were some nasty skirmishes between press gangs and Easterners. Word is two Phoenix Guards were killed and another eleven or so injured.”
“And Easterners?”
“No idea. Thing is, it’s spreading. Nothing around here, yet, but there have been signs of trouble on the docks and in Little Deathgate.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“Placards going up, Teckla banding together and throwing things at Phoenix Guards. One or two barricades went up in Little Deathgate, but they didn’t last long.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“Not yet.”
“That’s something. What’s the issue? Conscription?”
“No. Kelly’s arrest.”
“By the Phoenix!”
“That’s what the word is.”
I shook my head, wondering if I really knew half as much about this city as I thought I did. It was like there were invisible forces running through the streets, forces that controlled our lives and directed our actions, leaving us as helpless as a slave or an Empress. Things were happening that I couldn’t understand, couldn’t control, and might not survive. And whatever those things were, Cawti was right in the middle of them.
“I think I’d better be going, Kragar. I’ve just thought of an errand that won’t wait.”
“All right. Give the old man my regards.”
“I will.”
“And be careful, Vlad. Just because I can guess where you’re going doesn’t mean Boralinoi’s people can, but it doesn’t mean they can’t, either.”
“I’ll be careful, Kragar. And good luck with your new job.”
He snorted. “I’ll need it,” he said.
I followed him out, still thinking about Sticks. Something occurred to me, and I stopped and asked Melestav to find the names of the freighters that had gone down. It was unlikely Chorba’s Pride was one, and I couldn’t do anything about it, anyway, but I wanted to know. And I guess, somehow, I’d have felt better knowing that Trice and Yinta were still alive. He agreed to do so, and I sent Loiosh and Rocza out ahead of me, to make sure it was safe to go outside.
There was a thump behind me, and at first it didn’t register that anything was wrong. Then I saw Melestav facedown on the floor and I moved away, drew a dagger, and looked around. I didn’t see anything. Loiosh came back and landed on my shoulder, also looking anxiously around. I was not attacked.
Then I noticed that Melestav had a dagger in his hand and realized from his position what he’d been up to. It was only after that that I noticed Kragar, standing above my secretary’s body.
“Shit,” I said.
Kragar nodded. “You were set up perfectly, Vlad.”
“But he didn’t notice you.”
I started shaking and cursing at the same time. That had been as close as I’d ever come. I looked down at his body. He had not only saved my life more than once, he had died doing it, and now this. Now he’d tried to shine me, and for what? Money? Power?
If you want to push it back, he’d tried to shine me because I’d had to go and threaten the Imperial representative, and then threaten someone on the Jhereg Council. I couldn’t blame anyone but myself for this. I kept staring at the body until Kragar said, “No point in standing around here, Vlad. I’ll take care of things. Get somewhere safe.”
I did so without another word.
THE BELLS IN MY grandfather’s shop went tinga-ling as I pushed aside the rug that he used as a door. “Come in, Vladimir. Tea?”
“Thank you, Noish-pa.” I kissed his cheek and said hello to his familiar, a short-haired white cat named Ambrus. The tea had a distinct lemon tang and was very good. My grandfather’s hands shook, just a little, as he poured. I sat in a canvas chair in his front room while Loiosh and Rocza, after greeting Noish-pa, settled down next to Ambrus for conversation on subjects I could only guess at.
“Where are your thoughts, Vladimir?”
“Noish-pa, what are they doing around here? I mean, the Empire, and these rebels.”
“What are they doing? You come to an old man like me for this?” But he smiled with his few remaining yellowed teeth and settled back a little. “All right. The elfs want to go to war, for what reason they do not tell me. They want sailors for their ships, so they pull in young men and women for it. They send in gangs who grab people and take them, without even saying farewell to the family, and bring them to the ships, which sail away. Everyone is upset, some throw things at the elfs who want to take them. Now, these forradalomartok, they say that the war is a, what is the word? Urugy.”
“Pretext?”
“Yes, a pretext, to bring in soldiers. The forradalomartok organize against this, and everyone says, ‘Yes, yes, we fight,’ and then they arrest this Kelly and now everyone says, ‘Let him go or we will wreck your city.’”
“But it all happened so fast.”
“That is how these things happen, Vladimir. You see all your peasants smile and look sleepy and they say, ‘Oh, this is our lot in life,’ and then something happens and they all say, ‘We will die to keep them from doing this to our children.’ All in a night it can happen, Vladimir.”
“I guess so. But I’m frightened, Noish-pa. For them, and for Cawti.”
“Yes, she still walks with these people. You are right to fear.”
“Can they win?”
“Vladimir, why do you ask me? If soldiers come into my shop, I will show them how old I am. But I will not go looking for them, and so I know nothing of such things. Perhaps, yes, they can win. Perhaps the soldiers will crush them. Perhaps both at once. I don’t know.”
“I have to decide what to do, Noish-pa.”
“Yes, Vladimir. But there is little help I can give you.”
We sipped tea for a while. I said, “I don’t know, maybe it’s good to have this problem. It means I don’t have to worry about what’s going to happen afterward.”
He didn’t smile. “It is right not to worry now. But is it possible for you?”
“No,” I said. I stared at my hands. “I know you don’t approve of what I do. The trouble is, I’m not sure I approve of it anymore.”
“As I told you once before, Vladimir, killing people for money is no way for a man to earn a living.”
“But, Noish-pa, I hate them so much. I learned that I used to be one, and I thought that had changed things, but it hasn’t. I still hate them. Every time I come to see you, and smell the garbage in the streets, and see people who have lost their sight, or who have diseases that could be cured by the simplest sorcery, or don’t know how to write their own names, I just hate them. It doesn’t make me want to fix everything, like Cawti; it just makes me want to kill them.”
“Have you no friends, Vladimir?”
“Hmm? Well, yes, certainly. What has that to do with it?”
“Who are your friends?”
“Well, there’s—oh. I see. Yes, they’re all Dragaerans. But they’re different.”
“Are they?”
“I don’t know, Noish-pa. I really don’t. I know what you’re saying, but why do I still feel this hate?”
“Hate is part of life, Vladimir. If you cannot hate, you cannot love. And if you hate these elfs, then that is what you feel and you cannot deny it. But more foolish than this hate of elfs you have never met is to let it rule you. That is no way to live.”
“I know that, but I—” I broke off as Amrus jumped into Noish-pa’s lap, mewing furiously. Noish-pa frowned and listened.
“What’s wrong?” I said.
“Be still, Vladimir. I don’t know.”
Loiosh returned to my shoulder. Noish-pa got up and walked into the front of the shop. I was about to follow him when he returned, holding a sheet of white parchment. He took a quill pen from an inkwell, and with a few quick slashes drew a sideways rectangle. He dipped the pen again, not blotting it at all, and made sloppy signs in the corners. I didn’t recognize the symbols.
“What is this?”
“Not now, Vladimir. Take this.” He handed me a small silver dagger. “Cut your left palm.” I did so, making a cut right next to the tiny white scar I’d made only two days before. It bled nicely. “Collect some blood in your right hand.” I did that, too. “Scatter it onto the paper.” He held the paper about three feet in front of me. I tossed the blood onto it, making an interesting pattern of red dots. Then he threw me a clean cloth to bind my hand up. I did, concentrating a little to stop the blood and begin the healing. I wished, not for the first time, that I’d troubled to learn basic sorcerous healing.
Noish-pa studied the red dots on the parchment and said, “There is a man outside, near the door. He is waiting for you to come out so he can kill you.”
“Oh. Is that all? All right.”
“You know how to find the back door.”
“Yes, but Loiosh will be taking it. We’ll handle this our way.”
He looked at me through filmy eyes. “All right, Vladimir. But don’t be distracted by shadows. Concentrate always on the target.”
“I will,” I said. I stood and drew my rapier. “I know how to make the shadows vanish.”