13

Caltho—I understand Henish has refused to testify officially. I don’t think that will be a problem, but if we’re going to do this, we need to know what he knows. Can you speak with him informally and find out just what happened? Let him know we aren’t out to stick a knife in him, we just need to know, from his point of view, what the sequence was. In particular, try to ascertain:

 

1. Did the troops have reason to believe the peasants in that shack were working with the enemy?

2. Did the peasants do anything that looked like it may have been an attack, or preparation for an attack?

3. Were they questioned, and, if so, how did they respond?

4. Did the troops see any weapons or anything that looked like it could be used as a weapon?

5. Did they violate orders, and, if so, at what point did they deviate from orders or expected procedures?

 

Let him know that if we can get straight answers to these questions, even unofficially, I’m pretty sure we can put this thing away, whatever the answers are.

—Desaniek (not authenticated)

 

How do you stop an assassin?

Sounds like it’s about to be a joke, doesn’t it? But no, I was really asking myself that.

You’d think, what with me having been one for a big chunk of my life, I’d have some pretty good ideas on how to go about stopping one, but it doesn’t work that way. When I thought up a way that would have stopped me, I thought up a way to counter it.

The point is, most assassins I know work pretty much the same way: get the pattern of your target’s movements, select a spot, pick a time, make an escape plan, choose a method, then, well, you do it. If you want to stop the assassin, and you don’t know who it is, you need to do pretty much the same thing and be there first. Good luck with that.

Or else—hmmm—maybe find the assassin while he’s setting it up? Yeah, that had some possibilities.

“Well, Loiosh? Got any better ideas?”

“Your job is to find better ideas, mine is to cut holes in the ones you have, and you’ve already done that pretty well.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

I wandered around the Imperial Wing until I found a refreshingly snobbish Teckla who, for a bit of silver, was willing to guide us to the office of the Imperial Justicer. Loiosh and Rocza hid inside my cloak, which I should mention isn’t terribly comfortable for any of us at the best of times, and with the added weight on my shoulders (literally) now was flat no fun at all.

I was just as glad to have a guide—I’d never have been able to find it on my own. I made a point of noting the twists, turns, and stairways, and when we got there (“Down this hall, the double doors with the iorich below the Imperial Phoenix there, you see, and the gold knobs? That one.”) I didn’t think I’d ever be able to find it again.

I dismissed the Teckla and walked into the office, which was damn near as big as the throne room, and much more tastefully appointed, gold knobs notwithstanding. A pleasant-looking gentleman with eyebrows that looked like he trimmed them sat behind a large highly polished desk and inquired as to my business, showing no signs of discomfort at being polite to me. I said, “I beg your pardon, m’lord, I’m in the wrong place.” I bowed low and humbly, as befit an Easterner, and walked out.

There was no one outside the office, so I took a good, slow look around. I was at the end of a long, wide hallway; with no other doors to the place, the insides probably wrapped around, with a bunch of internal offices, and also probably went quite a ways back beyond what I saw. There had been no windows in the room I was in.

Being at the end of the hallway like that was bad, because there was no place to hide, but good because it meant there was no other way out—unless there was a direct exit. I should have had Kiera steal the plans for the Palace, if there were any, and if I could have found a Vallista to interpret them for me. Wide hallways mean important people in the Palace, and maybe other places too. I’ll make no comment on gold doorknobs; you decide.

It was marginal whether this would be a good place to find Desaniek; someone important is liable to have another entrance or two, but not likely to use it most of the time; this is because they usually want to be seen coming and going, and to check on those who work for them. Not always, but chances were good she’d be coming out this way.

At the other extreme of the hall—that is, past the stairway—were three rooms and a small, short passage ending in a door. I went and clapped at it—which hurt all through my chest and neck—and no one answered; tried the door and it was locked. I didn’t feel like being caught picking a lock in the Imperial Palace, so I didn’t.

I hate it when there’s no good place to hide; especially when I’m standing around somewhere I obviously don’t belong. Here is where an invisibility spell would have been useful, if I’d been able to cast one without removing my protections, and if casting it wouldn’t have set off every alarm in the Palace.

Yeah, well.

The ceiling provided no good place for Loiosh to hide, either.

“I beg to differ.”

“The hanging lamp? You think you can use that?”

“I’d be concealed from one direction, and in shadows from the other.”

“You know what would happen if you were spotted? A jhereg in the Palace? Someone would scream, and they’d run and get everybody and—”

“Maybe they’d just shoo me out the nearest window.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it. And you won’t be able to follow her without being spotted. And whenever you leave, it’ll be problematical.”

“Rocza will do it. All she has to do is let me know when she leaves, and which direction she goes. And she can stay here until we can fetch her.”

“How do we—?”

“Oh, come on, Boss. There’s no one around. She can just fly up there.”

“You sure about this?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

I walked over to the place where the hall came together, opened my cloak, and she flapped up to the lamp. I studied her. I could see her, but I had to be looking. I felt a little better about the whole thing.

“What does she think about all of this?”

“She thinks it’s hot up there.”

A couple of young-looking Iorich walked by, evidently on the way to see Desaniek, or maybe some other business in that office involving subtleties of jurisprudence. I bowed respectfully. They both glanced at me and kept walking; one might have nodded slightly.

At the bottom of the stairs things became complicated: There were passages in three directions, and I could make out further branchings on two of them; also the stairs kept going down. I checked the nearest doors: one of them was a privy, which I took the opportunity to use, because if you’re going to be following someone for maybe hours, that’s a problem you don’t need. Another was locked, and one was open and empty—it would probably be someone’s office when the need arose for legal advice on comparative flower arrangement. I stepped in, shut the door, and let Loiosh out from my cloak; a great relief to us both.

“Oh, do we get to wait now, Boss? You know that’s my favorite part.”

We waited.

Loiosh kept up a stream of suggestions about how to decorate the empty room, while I tried to think up creative things to say if someone happened to come walking in. Every once in a while, he’d reassure me that Rocza was still undiscovered, and that Desaniek hadn’t been by.

We waited a long time.

Either she had a lot to do in the office and was disgustingly dedicated, or she had another way out. After four hours, with my stomach rumbling, I’d about decided it was the latter. After five hours, I was pretty well sure of it. It had almost been six hours when Loiosh said, “There she is! Coming toward us, Boss,” and we were off.

Loiosh ducked into my cloak again, and I stepped out of the hall and walked over to the stairway.

“What’s Rocza doing?”

“Waiting.”

“Good. Tell her to stay with it.”

I turned so that when she walked past me I was going the other way; I made a slight bow. My peripheral vision told me only that she was of average height, with a rather light complexion for an Iorich and a firm stride. Once she was well past me, I turned around and followed. This not only permitted me to watch for anyone else who might be following her, but also showed me how to get out of the Palace.

We pretty quickly reached a place where there were lots of people, which wasn’t good for me. It’s too easy to follow someone in a crowd, which means it’s hard to spot someone else doing so. I didn’t lose her, of course; I can manage to stay with someone even without Loiosh, thank you very much. But it did get simpler once we left the Palace itself, and I could take a moment when I was unobserved to let him out.

The easy part was following Desaniek. The hard part was spotting someone else following Desaniek. The scary part was leaving the confines of the Palace area and wondering if I had someone following me with unfriendly intentions. The painful part was walking quickly enough to keep up with her.

She didn’t go far, as it happened—just outside the Palace district to a place I’d eaten at once before. The food was okay, but the wine list was amazing. Among the things I hadn’t practiced lately was following around someone who was eating better than I was.

To the left, however, I could leave Loiosh there in case she was a fast eater, and go retrieve Rocza.

“Which means you walking through a lot of bad areas without me spotting for you.”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Think how much you could you do in twenty minutes.”

“Did you see anyone on the way here?”

“No, but—”

“Hang tight. I’ll be back soon.”

And I was, too, believe it or not. It took longer than it should have, because I got lost trying to find the office and had to ask directions three times, but find it I did, and Rocza was there, and I had no trouble getting back out. It’s very strange how it can be hard to find your way to a place, but easy to find your way back.

“Okay, we’re about there. Is it safe?”

“You’re safe from everyone but Rocza, who’s hungry, overheated, and bad-tempered.”

“I trust you to protect me.”

“I charge for those services.”

I found a safe place to wait while Desaniek finished eating. Loiosh and Rocza scanned the area for anyone watching either her or me.

“How will you tell which it is, Boss?”

“Just spot him, then we’ll worry about it.”

“In other words, you have no clue.”

“Something like that.”

But we didn’t spot anyone. If there was anyone following her, he could be at the table next to her, eating, and staring off in the opposite direction; I’d done that before.

So I waited some more. Feh.

It might be interesting to give you the rest of what happened that night in great detail if it had turned out to have been interesting, but in fact I never spotted anyone. I was with her for about three more painful hours, as she visited a private club where, I guess, high-powered Iorich like to relax; then eventually she went home. In the end, it was a big nothing.

I went back to the inn, got a little sleep and an early start, and waited outside her home. Loiosh spotted a Jhereg, but it was before we got there, and he was obviously looking for me, based on how carefully he avoided watching the inn. Crap. We lost him on the way to Desaniek’s home.

She went straight to the office; I had the jhereg in my cloak and all three of us waited. She didn’t eat any morning meal at all, and must have had lunch sent in. What she did in there for eighteen hours I don’t know, but there she was, and no one else seemed interested. That night she ate in the same place, but went straight home afterward. She took the same route both times.

Back in my room at the inn, I got a note from Kiera that she had information for me; I wrote back asking her to hold it for a day or two, since I had no time to do anything except follow Desaniek around.

Is it all right if I stop talking about how much it hurt just to walk? You can’t be enjoying hearing about it, and I don’t enjoy remembering it. Let’s just say that, of all the times I’ve followed people around, this was the least pleasant.

You can repeat the pattern for the day after, except she went to a different place after she’d finished, and ate with an Iorich who was probably her lover—at least, they seemed to be on good terms, and he went home with her. They took a different route, more scenic. I had the impression they always went this way.

The next day, no lover, no Jhereg interested in her, and back to the first route, past one of my favorite bakers, which made it especially trying.

When the same thing happened the next day, I started to get disgusted, not to mention worried.

“What have I missed, Loiosh? They’re going to take this Iorich out and make it look like those Easterners are behind it. To do that, they have to know her movements exactly. Why aren’t they there?”

“Maybe they are, and you can’t see them.”

“Invisible? I suppose. But someone would have noticed an invisible guy walking by. I’d think—”

“That’s not what I mean. She isn’t a Jhereg, Boss. She probably doesn’t have any protection spells on.”

“What’s your point?”

“Maybe they’re using sorcery to trace her?”

I used several of my favorite oaths, running them together. I wish I could remember exactly how I put it, because it was very poetic.

“Boss?”

“That’s cheating.”

“Uh, Boss—”

“I know, I know. I’m just pissed because I didn’t think of it.”

“That’s what you’ve got me around for.”

“Which you’ll never let me forget, which is the other thing I’m pissed about. All right, there has to be a way to figure this out. No, we don’t, we need to call for help.”

“Morrolan, or Sethra?”

“Yes.” Before he could say something snippy, I added, “Who would be easier to get to?”

“You could get Morrolan to come see you, instead of you going there.”

“Yeah, good point.”

I took another circuitous route back to the Palace area, then went into the Dragon Wing by one of the entrances used by the nobility. Two guards in full uniform stood outside the entrance; I wondered if standing outside the Wing for hours at a time is an honor or a punishment, but in any case I put on my full outfit of arrogance and went breezing past them. This was going to be fun.

There was a sergeant at a desk. I knew he was a sergeant because I recognized the marks on his uniform, and I knew it was a desk because it’s always a desk. There’s always someone at a desk, except when it’s a table that functions as a desk. You sit behind a desk, and everyone knows you’re supposed to be there, and that you’re doing something that involves your brain. It’s an odd, special kind of importance. I think everyone should get a desk; you can sit behind it when you feel like you don’t matter.

The Empress didn’t have a desk. Morrolan didn’t have a desk. Sethra didn’t have a desk. They really did matter. Me, when I was running my area for the Jhereg, I had a desk. Now I don’t. You can draw whatever conclusions you want to from that.

I went up to the sergeant behind the desk and said, “I am Count Szurke. This is my signet. I wish to see the ensign on duty.”

He didn’t like it much. The only people who are supposed to talk to you like that are the ones with bigger desks. But the signet of an Imperial title carries some weight with the military, so he nodded and, however painful it may have been for him, said, “Yes, my lord. At once.” Then he said, “Flips, bring my lord to the ensign.”

A guy who spent too much time on his hair said, “Yes, m’lord,” and bowed to me, then led the way down the hall, clapped outside the first door he came to, and, upon receiving the word, opened the door for me. I went into a room where there was a woman behind a desk. It was a bigger desk than the sergeant had.

I repeated my introduction and said, “I require a message delivered at once to Lord Morrolan. I wish him to meet me here. Find me a private room in which to wait, then let him know I’m there.”

She didn’t like my tone much, but orders, as they say, are orders. “Yes, my lord.” She pulled out a piece of paper, scribbled on it with a pen that went into a pen-holder with a dragon’s head etched on it, then affixed her seal and stood up. “If my lord will follow me?”

I don’t always love throwing my weight around. But sometimes, with some people, it’s just fun.

She showed me to a small, comfortable room, surrounded by pictures of battle, some of them terribly realistic-looking. There was a lot of blood. I didn’t find it relaxing. Also, they didn’t bring me any food or wine, which I got to resenting after an hour or so. Fortunately, it wasn’t much more than an hour before there came a clap at the door. I recognized Morrolan’s hands slapping together before Loiosh said anything, which fact might disturb me if I let it.

I got up and let him in, then closed the door behind him. He said, “What is it?” That’s Morrolan, all full of flowery greetings and chitchat.

“Those guards who stand outside the Wing. Are they being punished, or honored?”

“What is it?” he repeated. I guess I’ll never know.

“There’s someone I need to know about.” I said, “Her name is Desaniek. She—”

“That’s the name of the Justicer leading Her Majesty’s investigation into Tirma.”

“Oh, you knew about that?”

“I just heard.”

“I thought I’d get to surprise you.”

“What about her?”

“The Jhereg is going to kill her.”

“If the Jhereg does, there won’t be a Jhereg.”

I rolled my eyes. “It won’t look like they did it, Morrolan.”

“Oh? How are they going to manage that? A tragic, coincidental accident? She’s going to slip under a cart? Fall out of a building? Drown in her bathtub? Accidentally stab herself in the back while cleaning her knife?”

I filled him in on some of the background, then said, “It’s going to be blamed on some idiot group of Easterners and Teckla.”

He frowned. “Not the one—”

“No, a different group.”

“How many are there?”

“Lots, I guess. Stir them up long enough and hard enough, and pretty soon they start listening to the guy telling them how to solve all their problems.” I wasn’t sure if I believed that myself, but telling it to Morrolan was a nod to Cawti; I’d like to think she’d have appreciated it.

“Do you know where and when?”

“No. That’s what I want your help with.”

He put on a “this is going to be good” expression, and waited.

I said, “I’ve been following her, hoping to pick up whichever assassin is following her, hoping to take him out before he moves.”

“Well?”

“Well, no one is following her.”

He shrugged. “Maybe she has no protection spells on, and they’re tracing her movements with magic.”

I kept my face expressionless and said, “I had the same thought. Can you find out?”

“Hmmm? Oh, sure.”

“Good.”

“Now?”

“Up to you,” I said. “Now, or else after she’s dead. Either way is fine.”

“And then,” he said, “there are times I don’t miss you so much.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Okay, a moment.” He closed his eyes, opened them, looked disgusted, and said, “Oh, right. I’m in the Dragon Wing. Wait here.”

He got up and walked out, so I missed seeing the powerful sorcerer doing his powerful sorcery, which would have involved him closing his eyes and then, I don’t know, maybe taking a deep breath or something.

He was back a few minutes later. He sat down opposite me and said, “No one’s tracing her.”

“Really. Well. Isn’t that interesting. Any chance they have a trace on her you don’t know about?”

“I checked for sorcery, and witchcraft. I suppose it’s possible, but it isn’t very likely. Does this mean you’re wrong?”

“I don’t know. It fit together too well for me to think I got it wrong. But I don’t, as Perisil would say, have any evidence that would work in court.”

He considered. “If you’re right, ignoring the lack of evidence, what happens to Aliera?”

“Good question. In fact, that’s the question, isn’t it? I wish I had an answer. If they get away with it, the Empress has to choose between giving in to the Jhereg, and sacrificing Aliera. I don’t know which way she’ll jump.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Hmm?”

“What if you stop them?”

“Oh. Then the Empire runs an investigation into the massacre, and probably drops all those bogus charges against Aliera. She was Warlord when it happened; I have no idea how an investigation like that will work out.”

He considered for a moment. “I’d be inclined to think there’d be no blame attached to her.”

“Should there be?”

“Pardon?”

“Well, she’s the Warlord. It happened. How far up should the responsibility go?”

“Do you care?”

“Not really. Just curious.”

“I’m not an Iorich.”

“Right.”

He said, “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe get out of town. I don’t want to be here when whatever happens happens.”

He stared at me. “What, just give up?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“That isn’t like you.”

“Morrolan, I’m lost. Sometime, somehow, they’re going to take out Desaniek. And it will look like these Easterners did it to protest the massacre. It could be anywhere. I’ve spent most of the last week following her. I counted more than thirty times and places that would have been great to nail her. How am I supposed to know which they’ll do? You cannot stop an assassin unless you know the assassin and get to him first. If you have any suggestions on how to figure that out, feel free to mention them. I’m beat.”

“Can’t help you,” he said, dryly. “You’re the only assassin I know.”

“I know plenty of them, and I’m no better off. The other possibility is that I’m entirely wrong, and in that case I’m even more helpless because I have no clue at all that points to what they’re planning, and I can’t convince myself they’re going to just take this without making a move of some kind.”

He frowned. “We need to do something.”

“I’m glad it’s ‘we’ now.”

His nostrils flared, but he didn’t say anything; he knows when I’m just blowing sparks.

“Thanks for coming by,” I said.

“Need a teleport anywhere?”

“Yes, but I can’t risk it. Thanks, though.”

We both stood up. “If you come up with anything, and I can help—”

“I’ll let you know.”

He nodded and preceded me out the door, heading deeper into the Wing; presumably to find a place he could teleport from. I miss the small conveniences, you know? I took myself out and started back toward my inn, thinking a bit of rest wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“Was that true, Boss? Are you really giving up?”

“I don’t know. Probably not. But I have no idea what to do.”

“I’m with Morrolan. Doesn’t seem like you to leave town with things unfinished.”

“Would you be against it?”

“No! I’m all for it, Boss! This place scares me. But it seems like you showing good sense, and that’s not what I expect.”

I sighed. “I probably won’t.”

“You should.”

“I know.”

“You have no idea where they’re going to hit, Boss. What can you do?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying. I only know who they’re going to nail, and who they’re going to—oh.”

“What?”

I stopped in my tracks, and my mind raced. Then I said, “I know who they’re going to blame it on.”

“What does that get you?”

“A walk to South Adrilankha.”

“Uh, care to tell me why?”

“There might be things to learn from the people who are supposed to take the fall.”

“Like what?”

“If I learn them, I’ll let you know.”

“Oh, good.”

I was standing in the middle of the courtyard outside of the Dragon Wing of the Palace. The House of the Dragon, dark and oh-so-imposing, loomed over me as if matching glares with the Wing. There were four or five walkways leading out of the area, some to other parts of the Palace, others to the City. For all I knew, there were assassins hanging around all of them waiting to make my skin glisten.

But I had something to do, which is all anyone can ask.

“Yeah, Boss? What are we going to do?”

“I’m going to go back to the inn and drop a note to Kiera asking her to bring by the names of whatever Left Hand businesses she’s been able to find, then I’m going to have a decent meal sent up, drink half a bottle of wine, and go to sleep.”

“Sounds like my kind of plan.”

“Tomorrow is a busy day. I know a couple of places owned by the Left Hand. If Kiera doesn’t show up, we visit one.”

“Good. Then at least we don’t have to worry about a plan for the day after tomorrow, because neither one of us will be around to see it.”