Basic Improvisation
I RETURNED TO CASTLE Black and considered consequences.
My life was worth rather less than the small change in my purse, and if things went as I more than half expected them to, I would only have the satisfaction of cheating the Organization of the pleasure of killing me themselves. I indulged myself in a few minutes of soul-searching as I returned to my chambers to rest for a while.
This was nothing like the fatalism that comes upon certain Lyorn who take too long a view of life, and it wasn’t really the suicidal madness that had taken me for a short time after I’d been broken under torture. It was more that things had lined themselves up so that I had fewer and fewer options, so the one remaining had to be the right thing to do.
Which brought up the next question: When had I suddenly become enamored of doing the right thing, rather than the practical thing? Was it on the streets of South Adrilankha? Was it in my grandfather’s shop, when he said, so simply and quietly, that what I did was wrong? Was it when I finally realized, once and for all, that the woman I’d married was gone forever, and that, whoever she had become, she had no use for me as I was? Or was it that I was finally faced with a problem that couldn’t be solved by killing the right person; could only be solved, in fact, by performing a service to the Empire that I hated?
That, I suddenly realized, was what had happened to Cawti: She had transferred her hate from Dragaerans to the Empire. There are fools who pretend that one can get through life without hating, or that the emotion itself is somehow wrong, but I’ve never had that problem. But sometimes your own hate can fool you as much as your own love, with results that are just as disastrous. It had been silly, at best, to think that I hated Dragaerans when all of my close friends were of the race. Cawti’s hatred of the Empire, which I now shared in my own way, was perhaps more reasonable, but ultimately frustrating. Noish-pa was right: Hatred is inevitable; allowing it to control your actions is foolish.
I didn’t know where that left me now, and I admitted, as I stared at the ceiling and hid my thoughts from Loiosh, that none of it mattered, anyway. By surrendering to “right” as opposed to “practical,” I had changed irrevocably. But once you allow yourself to recognize necessity, you find two things: One, you find your options so restricted that the only course of action is obvious, and, two, that a great sense of freedom comes with the decision.
By this time tomorrow, Vlad Taltos, Jhereg and assassin, would be dead, one way or the other. I made certain all of my documents were correct and decided that the time allotted for self-indulgent soul-searching had expired.
But I fervently hoped that I would have a chance to give my Demon Goddess a piece of my mind before all was said and done.
IT WAS EARLY AFTERNOON when I was summoned to Morrolan’s lower workshop, the place set aside for his experiments with sorcery. I was much calmer, and beginning to be nervous. Make that frightened.
I picked up Aibynn on the way. Sethra, Daymar, and Morrolan were there, staring at the black stone and speaking together. They looked up when I came in and Sethra said, “Here, Vlad, catch,” and tossed me the stone. “Now, speak to me psionically.” I attempted to do so, and it was like it was back on the island; no one was home. I shrugged. “Now,” she said, “watch.” She gestured with one hand, and my rapier began rising out of its sheath. She stopped, it slid back in.
“The stone has no effect on sorcery whatsoever.”
“All right. But then—”
She held up a hand. “Now, if you please, set Spellbreaker spinning.”
“Eh? All right.” I let the chain fall into my left hand, wondering what she was after. It was very cool in my hand, and alive like a Morganti weapon was alive, yet different. I did as she’d said. When it was going good, spinning between Sethra and me, she gestured again. This time, nothing happened, except perhaps the faintest tingling running up my arm.
“Well?” I said. “We knew Spellbreaker interfered with sorcery. That’s why I gave it the name.”
“Yes. And so does whatever else is on the island. Does the similarity strike you?”
“Yes. What’s your point?”
“There is more to that chain than I know,” she said. “But I think we are able to determine one thing now. It is not, in fact, made of gold. It is made of gold Phoenix stone.”
“Is that what you call it?” put in Aibynn, who’d been so quiet I’d forgotten he was there.
“What do you call it?” asked Morrolan, in all innocence.
“In my land,” said Aibynn, “we call it a rock.”
I said hastily, “I’m not really surprised that Spellbreaker isn’t just gold; I’ve never seen gold as hard as the links of this chain.”
“Yes. Black disables psionic activity, gold prevents the working of sorcery.”
I studied Spellbreaker. “It certainly looks like metal,” I said. “And feels like it.”
“As I said, there’s more to that chain than I understand.”
“Well, all right. Now, do you know how to use this information to get past it to the island?”
“Possibly. Set Spellbreaker spinning again.” I did so. She looked at Daymar, nodded, and gestured. Once again, the sword began to rise from its sheath, only very slowly. She stopped, it returned.
“Looks good,” I said. “How?”
“How did Aliera break through the wall the last time you were on the island?”
“Pre-Empire sorcery,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Can you control it well enough to teleport with it? I’d understood such fine control was impossible, which is why the Orb was invented in the first place.”
“Yes and no,” said Sethra. “I can create a disturbance in the field set up by the Phoenix Stone, which allows Daymar to direct his energy through the gold stone, ignoring the black, which allows me to channel mine through the black, ignoring the gold. It isn’t easy,” she added.
“It is similar,” added Morrolan, “to the way you and Loiosh communicate. It isn’t exactly psionically, it’s more—”
“Never mind the details,” I said, “as long as it will work.”
“It should,” said Sethra. “As long as we can get a solid enough image of the place.”
She looked at Aibynn. He stared back, looking innocent.
“All right,” I said. “Sethra, what about getting us back?”
“Daymar will have to try to break through to you.”
“All right, when?”
“Let’s talk about it.”
We decided that they would give us a couple of hours, and, after that, Daymar would attempt to reach me psionically every half hour until we said we were ready to return.
Sethra said, “You know, don’t you, that it is much more difficult to teleport something to you than from you?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But I trust you.”
“As you say.”
“Then we can proceed.”
“Yes,” she said. “Are you ready?”
“I was born ready.”
“Then let us call Aliera and be about it.”
Aliera arrived almost at once. She was wearing the black and silver battle garb of a Dragonlord. She was barely taller than I, which was quite short for a Dragaeran. It used to bother her, I guess, since she was in the habit of wearing long gowns and levitating rather than walking, but she had recently stopped doing this. I thought that I’d ask her why at some future date, then realized there probably wouldn’t be some future date for me. I shivered. At her side was a shortsword called Pathfinder, which was one of the Seventeen Great Weapons, though I knew little about it beyond that. That it was Morganti was sufficient information for most people, myself included.
Morrolan, as always, wore black. At his side was Blackwand, about which the less said the better. Sethra had us stand in a triangle, with me at the V, Morrolan in front of me to the right, Aliera in front to my left. Loiosh was on my right shoulder, Rocza on my left. Rocza seemed a bit jumpy; Loiosh as cool as steel. Sethra said, “Put an arm on Morrolan’s shoulder, and one on—hello, Master Taltos.”
I looked up and saw my grandfather ambling his way toward me. For a moment I was afraid he was going to insist on coming along, but he only wanted to slip an amulet over my head and kiss my cheek.
“What is it?”
“It should prevent you from feeling discomfort while you journey in the elflands.”
It took me a moment to translate that, then I said, “You mean I won’t get sick anymore when I teleport? Noish-pa, my life is complete.”
“No,” he said. “It is not complete until you have given me a great-grandchild. Don’t forget that.”
I looked into his eyes for just a moment, then kissed his cheek. “I won’t.” He stepped back until he was next to Aibynn, who was next to Daymar and Sethra. I put my hands on Aliera’s and Morrolan’s shoulders and said, “All right, Sethra and Daymar. Cast off.”
“Concentrate on the location, Aibynn. Do you have one in mind?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Concentrate on it, and open your mind to me—oh, take that thing off.”
“Oh, yeah. Okay.”
“Now, think about it. Remember every detail you can, what it feels like—excellent. You’re good at this. I think we’re ready, Vlad.”
“Do it, then,” I said, hoping Aibynn wasn’t sending us back into a cell, or into the sea or something. I wished I could trust him a little more. I felt Daymar’s powerful psychic presence, as if he were tiptoeing around in my forebrain. Then there was what I can only describe as a psychic twist. Imagine, if you will, that your thoughts are neatly rolling waves in a pond, and someone comes along and throws a boulder into the middle of it. I could no longer form coherent thoughts, and my perceptions became hopelessly muddled. I remember feeling as if Castle Black were loose inside my head, and I was desperately trying to tie it down against a storm, while simultaneously realizing how absurd that was.
More went on then, a great deal more, but there is no way I can reconstruct it, or even remember most of the images the spell created. The next thing I can recall clearly, and I have no idea how long we stood there before it happened, was being covered in a bright blue light that took us all in and then resolved itself to a spear of light that went off in some impossible direction, taking us with it.
There was no nausea. There wasn’t even any sensation of movement. We stood in a grove below a tree from which I’d fallen not many days before. I wanted to open a bottle of wine, more for Noish-pa’s amulet having worked than the success of the teleport spell, but I had none handy in any case.
Morrolan said, “What’s the plan, Vlad?”
Plan? I was supposed to have a plan? “Follow me,” I said, and, “Loiosh, do you remember the way?”
“I think so, boss. Bear a little to the left.”
We set off. It was oddly peaceful walking through the woods, I guess because of the lack of background psychic activity, the kind that’s always there but you never notice. Soon I forgot that anyone was with me except Loiosh, whom I could feel as a cool hand on the brow of my thoughts, and way in the background, faint echoes of Rocza, who was just recovering from panic induced by the teleport. I realized for the first time how strange this must be for her, and how hard it was for her to appear calm in the face of these strange sorceries, for which none of her life had prepared her. Loiosh had chosen well.
“Thanks, boss.”
“Think nothing of it, Loiosh.”
“Now, what is it you’ve been hiding from me all day?”
“Wait and see.”
We came to the place where I’d fought my first four pursuers, and I didn’t take the time to see if there were any signs of the struggle. Loiosh led me; I led Morrolan and Aliera, and in about an hour and a half we were outside the village. It was early evening. There was no one in sight.
“Where is everybody, boss?”
“Probably on ships preparing to attack the Dragaeran navy.”
“Oh.”
“Let’s eat,” I said aloud, and we took out the food that had been packed for us by Morrolan’s cook. I had dried winneasaurous and some good bread. I took my time eating, so it was nearly full dark by the time we were done.
“Now what?” said Morrolan.
I looked at their dim faces, Morrolan e’Drien and Aliera e’Kieron, watching me patiently and expectantly. I said, “Now I lead us to the place that passes for a palace and negotiate as appropriate, and get out.”
“In other words,” said Aliera, “we’re just going to improvise.”
“You got it.”
“Good plan,” said Morrolan dryly.
“Thanks. It’s one of my best.”
I led the way, with Morrolan and Aliera behind me. Quite a sight we must have looked as we walked up the wide shallow steps to the small, pillared building that housed the government of Greenaere.
We flung the door open in front of two sleepy-looking guards, neither of them in uniform, both holding the short, feathered spears I remembered too well. They stopped looking sleepy almost at once. The three of us could have put the two of them down without working up a sweat, but I held my arm up for them to wait.
The guards stared at us. We stared back. I said, “Take me to your—”
“Who are you?” croaked one of them at last.
“Unofficial envoys from the Dragaeran Empire. We wish to open negotiations with—”
“I know you,” said the other. “You’re the one who—”
“Now, now,” I said. “The past is past,” and I smiled into his face. Behind me, I felt the troops prepare for battle. There is something reassuring about having Morrolan with Blackwand and Aliera with Pathfinder ready to jump to your defense. The guards looked very nervous; not without reason. “We would like to see the King,” I said. There was no one else in sight down the narrow corridor; they really hadn’t considered the possibility of an attack.
“I—I’ll see if he, that is, I’ll find out—”
“Excellent. Do that.”
He swallowed and backed up a couple of steps. I followed, Morrolan and Aliera behind me, forcing the other guard backward, too.
“No, you wait here.”
“Not a chance,” I said cheerfully.
He stopped. “I can’t let you past.”
“You can’t stop us,” I said reasonably.
“I’ll raise the alarm.”
“Do so.”
He turned and yelled, “Help! Invaders!” at the top of his lungs. For some reason, I still didn’t want to cut them down, so I just led us past them. As we went by, I patted the one who’d recognized me on the shoulder. They both looked rather pitiful, and the other one actually drew steel as we went by. Morrolan and Aliera drew as well then, and I heard the fellow make sounds of awe under his breath. Yes, it was still possible to feel a Morganti weapon here on the island, Phoenix Stone notwithstanding. I expected Morrolan was noting that to study when he got back.
“This way,” I said, and directed us into the throne room.
There were two more guards, a pale man with an odd white streak in his dark hair and a hook-nosed woman. They had apparently heard the warnings, because they stood with their spears out and pointed at us. To the right of the throne was an old woman with grey hair and deep eyes, and on the left were two men. One seemed quite old and rather unkempt. The other was the bushy-browed interrogator I knew so well. He was armed only with a knife at his belt, the old man was unarmed. The King, who looked like he couldn’t be more than two or three hundred (in a human that would be eighteen or nineteen, I suppose), stared at us in a mixture of fear and amazement. I recognized him, too; he’d been walking next to the King I’d assassinated, just as I’d suspected then. How long ago was that? It felt like years.
I led us up to the throne, stopping just out of range of those spears, and said, “Your Majesty King Corcor’n, we wish you a pleasant evening. Um, excuse me, is ‘Your Majesty’ the proper form of address?”
He swallowed twice and said, “It will do.”
I said, “My name is Vladimir Taltos. My friends are called Morrolan e’Drien and Aliera e’Kieron. We’ve come to discuss peace.”
The two guards with the spears looked very unhappy and kept glancing at the two Great Weapons. Well, hardly surprising. I said, “Perhaps, my friends, we should sheathe our weapons.” They did so.
The King said, in a raspy whisper, “How did you get here?”
“Sorcery, Your Majesty.”
“But—”
“Oh, yes, I know. We’ve solved that problem.”
“Impossible.”
I shrugged. “In that case, we’re not here, and you can safely ignore us. I should tell you, Your Majesty, that we came here in order to kill you and as many important advisors and chiefs as we could find. We changed our minds when we saw how poorly protected you were.”
“Messengers have gone out,” he said. “Troops will be arriving in moments.”
“In that case,” I said, “it would be well if we had our business concluded before they arrive. Otherwise, well, things could get ugly.”
His mouth worked in anger and fear. The grey-haired woman leaned over to him and started to say something. I gave silent orders to Loiosh and Rocza. They left my shoulders and flew to the two guards. As puppets controlled by a single string, the guards winced, began to panic, caught themselves, and held still as the jhereg landed on their shoulders. I was very impressed with the guards; they trembled, but didn’t move. I smiled.
The King said, “You assassinated—”
“Yes,” I said. “I did. And you will never know the reason. But you have sunk several of our ships, killing hundreds of our citizens. How many lives is a King worth, Your Majesty? We are willing to call the score even if you are.”
“He was my father.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry,” he said scornfully.
“Yes. I am. For reasons I can no more explain than I can explain why I did it. But what’s done is done. Your father was given a good blood price, Your Majesty; the crews of—how many ships? Your Majesty, we want to end it. Can you—?”
At that moment there was the sound of tramping feet. I broke off my speech, but didn’t turn around.
“How many, Loiosh?”
“About twenty, boss.”
“Aliera, Morrolan, watch them.”
“We’re already doing it, Vlad,” said Morrolan. I think it bothered him to appear to be taking orders from me. Tough. At that moment I heard Daymar’s voice in the back of my mind. I let the contact occur and said, “All is well. Check back later.” The contact faded.
There were, indeed, a good number of them, but we were between them and the King. Moreover, each of the two guards who stood between us had a poisonous jhereg on his shoulder. I said, “You must decide, Your Majesty. Unless, that is, you would like us to slaughter your troops for you first, and then continue the negotiations?”
“How do you know,” he said at last, “that I will hold to an agreement made under these circumstances?”
“I don’t,” I said. “Furthermore, you are most welcome to break it. If you do, of course, we will be back. Perhaps with a few thousand troops.”
He turned to the old woman at his side and they spoke together quietly.
“Loiosh, what are they saying?”
“She says Elde has no objection to peace if he can get a guarantee that—”
“Very well,” said the King. “I agree. The ships we’ve sunk will be the indemnity for the damage done to us. We—bide a moment.”
He spoke quietly to the two men on the other side of the throne.
“Loiosh?”
“I can’t hear them, boss.”
“All right. The old woman must be the ambassador or something from Elde Island. Perhaps the others are advisors of some sort.”
We waited while they spoke together, then the King nodded and said, “But we require two things. First, assurances that no reprisals will be taken either against us or against our ally. Second, we want the assassin and his accomplice returned to us for punishment.”
I turned to glance at Morrolan and Aliera. Aliera was still watching the armed men at the back of the room; Morrolan turned his head toward me and silently mouthed the word “assassin,” with a lift to his eyebrows. I smiled and turned back to the King.
“As to your first condition,” I said, “I give you my word. Isn’t that sufficient?”
“No,” said the King.”
“You aren’t really in much of a position to bargain.”
“Maybe,” he said, apparently beginning to recover now that he had troops handy. “But maybe it isn’t all that easy for you to break through here. Maybe you cannot send troops to invade us. Maybe it was only a fluke that allowed the three of you to arrive here this way. Maybe you didn’t break through the way you claim you did, but sneaked past our ships in a vessel of your own.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “But do you think we could slip past you in your own waters? And do you want to chance it?”
“If you do not meet the conditions, yes.”
“What sort of guarantees do you want?”
“The word of your Empress.”
I said, “We are unofficial envoys. I cannot speak for her.”
“We will write out a treaty that specifies the conditions. The Empress may sign it and return it to me, or not. We will allow a single small ship, bearing your Empire’s standard, to land to return the document. We will cease our attacks for three days, which will give time to sign and return it. I warn you that, during those three days, our preparations for war, and the preparations of our ally, will continue.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “As to the second condition, it is impossible.”
He looked at me, then spoke quietly to his advisors. The one I recognized kept glancing at me. The King looked up and said, “In that case, you may signal the slaughter to begin, for we will not allow you and your accomplice to go unpunished.”
“Your Majesty, have your scribe prepare the document while I consider this matter. We may be able to work something out.”
“Very well.” The old man at his left hand, it seemed, was the scribe. He left for a moment, and returned with pen, blotter, ink, and parchment, and began writing.
I said, “May I approach you, Your Majesty?”
The two guards in front of him tensed, but he said, “Very well.”
“Vlad, what are you doing?” asked Morrolan.
“Bide a moment,” I said.
I spoke to the King quietly for a few minutes, with the advisor, the emissary, and bushy-brows listening in. Loiosh said, “Boss, you—”
“Shut up.”
“But—”
“Shut up.”
The King looked at me closely, then at the advisor, who nodded. Bushy-brows also nodded. The emissary said, “It is no concern of ours, Your Majesty.”
The King said, “Very well. So be it,” and the scribe continued writing. I backed up. Loiosh and Rocza returned to my shoulders, and the two guards relaxed.
Aliera said, “Vlad, what did you just do?”
“Worked a compromise,” I said. “I’ll explain when we’re back home.”
While the scribe was working, I felt Daymar’s contact once more. “Five minutes,” I told him. “We’re almost done.”
“I’ll have Seth—” His pseudo-voice faded away in midsentence. The scribe finished, the King signed it. I took it, read it, nodded, rolled it up, and handed it to Morrolan, who at once started unrolling it.
“No,” I said. “Read it at home.”
“Why?”
“We have to leave now.”
And, indeed, at that moment I felt Daymar’s presence again. “Okay,” I told him. “Take us home.”
The spell came on very slowly; so slowly I was afraid for a moment it wasn’t going to work. But a reddish glow began to surround us. It became stronger, and I felt it begin to grab and take hold, and I felt the beginnings of the disorientation I’d felt before.
It was no difficulty at all to take a step to my left so I was out of range of its effects. I saw Morrolan and Aliera slowly fade, not realizing, yet, that I had been left behind.
The King was staring in amazement at the evidence that sorcery had invaded his realm. I brought his attention back to me by saying, “So, Your Majesty, just out of curiosity, what are the island customs as regards execution of regicides?”