The Book of Taltos (27 page)

Kieron’s teeth were clenched and the fires of Verra’s hell burned in his gaze.

He said, “Very well, Aliera e’Kieron. If you think you can wield it, you can take it.”

Now, if some of this conversation doesn’t make sense to you, I can only say that it doesn’t make sense to me, either. For that matter, judging from the occasional glances I took at Morrolan’s face, he wasn’t doing much better at understanding it than I. But I’m telling you as best I can remember it, and you’ll just have to be as satisfied with it as I am.

Aliera said, “I can wield it.”

“Then I charge you to use it well, and to return to this place rather than give it to another or let it be taken from you.”

“And if I don’t?” she said, I think just to be contrary.

“Then I’ll come and take it.”

“Perhaps,” said Aliera, “that’s what I want.”

They matched stares for a little longer, then Kieron unstrapped swordbelt and sword and scabbard and passed the whole thing over to Aliera. It was quite a bit taller than she was; I wondered how she’d even be able to carry it.

She took it into her hand without appearing to have difficulty, though. When she had it she didn’t even bow to Kieron, she merely turned on her heel and walked out the door, a bit shakily, but without faltering. We followed her. “Come on,” she said. “We’re going home. All of us. Let him stop us who can.”

It didn’t sound practical, but it was still the best idea I’d heard that day.

T
HE INFORMATION
F
EET HAD
“to start with” consisted of fourteen pages of parchment, all tightly written by, apparently, a professional scribe, though that seemed unlikely. It consisted of a list of Raiet’s friends and how often he visited them, his favorite places to eat out and what he liked to order at each, his history in the Organization (which made this an amazingly incriminating document itself), and more like that. There was much detail about his mistress and where she lived (there’s no custom against nailing someone at his mistress’s place, unlike his own home). I’d never had any interest in knowing so much about someone. Toward the end were several notes such as, “Not a sorcerer. Good in a knife fight; very quick. Hardly a swordsman.” This stuff ought not to matter but was good to know.

On the other hand, this made me wonder if, perhaps, this wasn’t the sort of thing I should be trying to find out about all of my targets. I mean, sure, killing someone with a Morganti weapon is as serious as it gets, but any assassination is, well, a matter of life and death.

In addition to the parchment, Feet gave me a large purse containing more money than I’d ever seen in my life, most of it in fifty-imperial coins.

And he gave me a box. As soon as I touched it, I felt for the first time, albeit distantly, that peculiar hollow humming echo within the mind. I shuddered and realized just what I’d gotten myself into.

It was, of course, far too late to back out.

T
ROMP TROMP TROMP
. H
EAR
us march, ever onward, onward, doom uncertain, toward the unknown terrors of death, heads high, weapons ready . . .

What a load of crap.

We made our way through the corridors of the Halls of Judgment as well as we could, which wasn’t very. What had been a single straight, wide corridor had somehow turned into a twisty maze of little passages, all the same. We must have wandered those halls for two or three hours, getting more and more lost, with none of us willing to admit it. We tried marking the walls with the points of our swords, keeping to the left-hand paths, but nothing worked. And the really odd thing was that none of the passages led anywhere
except to other passages. That is, there were no rooms, stairways, doors, or anything else.

The purple robes we asked to lead us out just looked at us blankly. Aliera had buckled Kieron’s greatsword onto her back and was grimly not feeling the weight. Morrolan was equally grim about not feeling anything. Neither Loiosh nor I felt like talking. No one else had any good suggestions, either. I was getting tired.

We stopped and rested, leaning against a wall. Aliera tried to sit down on the floor and discovered that the greatsword on her back made this impossible. She looked disgusted. I think she was close to tears. So was I for that matter.

We talked quietly for a while, mostly complaining. Then Morrolan said, “All right. This isn’t working. We are going to have to find the gods and convince them to let us go.”

“No,” said Aliera. “The gods will prevent you from leaving.”

“The gods do not have to prevent me from leaving; these halls are doing a quite sufficient job of that.”

Aliera didn’t answer.

Morrolan said, “I suspect we could wander these halls forever without finding a way out. We need to ask someone, and I, for one, can think of no better expert than Verra.”

“No,” said Aliera.

“Are you lost, then?” came a new voice. We turned, and there was Baritt once again. He seemed pleased. I scowled but kept my mouth shut.

“Who are you?” asked Aliera.

Morrolan said, “This is Baritt.”

Baritt said, “And you?”

“I am Aliera.”

His eyes widened. “Indeed? Well, this is, indeed, droll. And you are trying to return to living lands, are you not? Well then, I crave a favor. If you succeed, and I am still alive, don’t visit me. I don’t think I could stand it.”

Aliera said, “My Lord, we are—”

“Yes, I know. I cannot help you. There is no way out except the one you know. Any purple robe can guide you back there. I am sorry.”

And he did actually seem to be sorry, too, but he was looking at Aliera as he said it.

Aliera scowled and her nostrils flared. She said, “Very well, then,” and we left Baritt standing there.

Finding a purple robe in that place was about as difficult as finding a Teckla in the market. And, yes, the purple robe was willing to escort us back to see the gods. She seemed to have no trouble finding the large passage. The thought crossed my mind that we could just turn around and take this passage out the way we’d come. I didn’t suggest it because I had the feeling it wouldn’t work.

We passed through the gate once more, the purple robe leaving us there, and we came once more before the throne of Verra, the Demon Goddess. She was smiling.

The bitch.

I
COULD HAVE DONE
most of my planning without ever leaving my flat, and I almost decided to. But I was getting more and more nervous about this whole Morganti business, so I decided to take the precaution of verifying some of the information on the fact sheets.

I’ll make a long, dull story short and say it all checked out, but I was happier seeing it myself. His imperially assigned protection consisted of three Dragonlords who were always with him, all of whom were very good. None of them spotted me while I was following them around, but they made me nervous. I eventually sent Loiosh to trail him while I studied the information, looking for a weakness.

The problem was the fact that the bodyguards were of the House of Dragon. Otherwise, I could probably bribe them to step out of the way at the crucial time. I wondered if the Dragons might have other weaknesses.

Well, for the moment, assume they did. Was there a good, obvious place to take him? Sure. There was a lady he liked to visit in the west of Adrilankha, past the river. If there is a better time and place to nail someone than his mistress’s, I don’t know what it is. Loiosh checked the area out for me and it was perfect—rarely traveled in the early morning hours when he left her place, yet with a fair share of structures to hide near. All right, if I were going to take him there, what would I do? Replace the cabman who picked
him up? That would involve bribing the cabman, who’d then know about the assassination, or else killing or disabling him, which I didn’t like.

No, there had to be a better way.

And there was, and I found it.

S
HE SAID
, “I
GREET
you again, mortals. And you, Aliera, I give you welcome. You may leave this place, and the Easterner may accompany you, on the condition that he never return. The Lord Morrolan will remain.”

“No,” said Aliera. “He returns with us.”

The goddess continued to smile.

“All right,” said Aliera. “Explain to me why he has to stay here.”

“It is the nature of this place. The living are simply unable to return. Perhaps he can become undead, and leave that way. There are those who have managed this. I believe you know Sethra Lavode, for instance.”

“That is not acceptable,” said Aliera.

Verra smiled, saying nothing.

Morrolan said, “Let it lie, Aliera.”

Aliera’s face was hard and grim. “That’s nonsense. What about Vlad, then? If it was the nature of the place, he couldn’t leave either. And don’t tell me it’s because he’s an Easterner—you know and I know there’s no difference between the soul of an Easterner and the soul of a Dragaeran.” Indeed? Then why weren’t Easterners allowed into the Paths of the Dead, assuming we’d want to be? But this wasn’t the time to ask.

Aliera continued, “I couldn’t leave either, for that matter. And didn’t the Empress Zerika manage? And for that matter, what about you? I know what being a Lord of Judgment means, and there’s nothing that makes you so special that you should be immune to these effects. You’re lying.”

Verra’s face lost its smile, and her multijointed hands twitched—an odd, inhuman gesture that scared me more than her presence. I expected Aliera to be destroyed on the spot, but Verra only said, “I owe you no explanation, little Dragon.”

Aliera said, “Yes, you do,” and Verra flushed. I wondered what it was that had passed between them.

Then Verra smiled, just a little, and said, “Yes, perhaps I do owe you an
explanation. First of all, you are simply wrong. You don’t know as much about being a god as you think you do. Easterners hold gods in awe, denying us any humanity. Dragaerans have the attitude that godhood is a skill, like sorcery, and there’s nothing more to it than that. Neither is correct. It is a combination of many skills, and many natural forces, and involves changes in every aspect of the personality. I was never human, but if I had been, I wouldn’t be now. I am a god. My blood is the blood of a god. It is for this reason that the Halls of Judgment cannot hold me.