The Book of Taltos (47 page)

“I see. What was it you wanted to know?”

“Who arranged to have those Easterners arrested?”

There was the faintest hint of a tightening of muscles, but no more. “Why, the Empress, Baronet Taltos.”

“At your request, Count Soffta. And I’m very anxious to learn which of my colleagues asked you to make the request.”

“I believe you have been misinformed, Baronet Taltos.”

“Have you heard of me, Count Soffta?”

My hand didn’t leave his shoulder, but neither did it tighten, nor did I make any other movement. He said nothing for two or three heartbeats, then he said, “It may take me some time to find out, and I’m expecting a rather large number of visitors very soon.”

“Yes, I imagine you are. But under the circumstances, I’m willing to let it take as much time as necessary. I’m sure your visitors will understand.”

“It could be very expensive.”

“I’m prepared to pay. It is my wife, you know.”

“Yes . . . .”

“So the cost is irrelevant.”

“I guess it is.”

“Perhaps it would be best if you could gather the information?”

I could almost feel him weighing the odds, attempting to select the best thing to say, the best thing to do. “There may be repercussions—”

“I have absolutely no doubt that there will be. I accept them.”

“All of them?”

“Whatever may happen. But I hope your information is complete and accurate, or there could be consequences you don’t foresee.”

“Yes. Toronnan.”

“I’m not surprised. Do you know why?”

“No.”

“Very well. Will you do me the honor of accompanying me out to the street?”

“I should be glad to, Lord Taltos.”

“Then let us walk together.”

We did so, smiling, my hand resting gently on his back. When we reached the street, I made certain there was no one nearby and composed my mind
for a teleport. I let Spellbreaker fall into my left hand, just in case. “Count Soffta, I wish to thank you for your help.”

“The fruits of your inquiry will be my reward, Baronet Taltos.”

“No doubt. One thing, though.”

“Yes.”

“The Tuzviz you served me. It was quite good, but it is brandy, not wine. You should remember that.”

“Thank you, Lord Taltos. I shall.”

I released him and let the teleport take effect.

A
N UNUSUAL SIGHT
,
NOT
explained by the celebrations prepared for the next couple of days, greeted me when I walked into my office: Sticks was there, holding his clubs lightly, as if tossing them around, and next to him, looking quite out of place in his bright island clothing and norska hat, was Aibynn. They were speaking quietly about something arcane, Aibynn pointing to the clubs, and Sticks gesturing with them. Perhaps they were comparing the arts of battery and drumming. On reflection, that isn’t that strange an idea: Both require relaxation and tension in the right degree, speed and suppleness, and good understanding of timing, control of the body, and concentration of the mind. Interesting notion.

But at the time I wasn’t thinking about that. I said, “Aibynn, what are you doing here?”

He spoke, as always, slowly, as if he were constantly being distracted by the ultimate rhythms of the universe. “To say thanks for lining up that job for me.”

“Oh. Think nothing of it. It’s going well, I take it.”

“Well? We’ve played one night together and we’ve been summoned to play for the Empress tomorrow.”

“For the Imperial New Year’s celebration?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Odd time to call it New Year, though. On the island, the year begins in the winter.”

“Spring makes more sense, doesn’t it?”

He shrugged.

“In any case,” I went on, “the New Year is a big deal at the Palace. I’m very impre—hmmm.”

“What is it?”

“Eh? Nothing.” It had suddenly occurred to me that I had slain his King, and here he was about to appear before my Empress. If he were, in fact, an assassin himself, I had just set her up as elegantly as if I’d planned it. I briefly considered whether to do anything about it, then decided that it was none of my business. It may be that if he was an assassin I’d have to clear out before they traced the connection between Aibynn and me, but other than that, so what?

I congratulated him again and went past into my office, asking Melestrav to send Kragar in. I forced myself to concentrate on the door, and so I noticed him when he entered. He took one look at me and said, “Who’s the target?”

“Toronnan.”

“Himself, eh? Is he after us, or are we after him? Not that it really matters.”

“Neither one, exactly. Kelly’s bunch were arrested by his orders. I want to find out what he’s after.”

“Sounds good. How?”

“Buy someone in his organization, of course.”

“Oh, sure. Just like that.”

“If it was easy, Kragar, I’d do it myself.”

He blinked. “It’s nice to hear you say that out loud after all this time of—”

“Kill it.”

“Speaking of.”

“Hmmm?”

“We going to shine him?”

“I hope not. I’ve done too much of that. Any more, and people are going to start getting nervous—people I don’t want to make nervous. Besides, I have my hands full with South Adrilankha right now; I don’t need more territory.”

He nodded. “That’s what I’ve been thinking. Okay, I’ll see if anyone is for sale in his organization.” He got up, stopped, and said, “Do you think he might have bought someone in ours?”

“No way to know,” I said. “It’s a possibility. But I’m not going to start getting paranoid about it.”

“I guess not.”

“Oh, bring me a full set of weapons. It’s about that time.”

“Okay. Back soon.” He left, looking unusually thoughtful.

A couple of hours later, as I was finishing up the process of changing weapons, Melestav walked into my office.

“Message by courier, boss.”

“Oh, really? Someone’s being formal. Did he let you chop for it?”

“Yeah. Here it is.”

I inspected the single folded and sealed sheet and learned nothing interesting. I didn’t recognize the seal, but I don’t think there are more than three or four seals I would recognize. I’m not certain I’d know my own. I opened it, read, and considered.

“What is it, boss?”

“What? Oh. The gentleman who invited me over a few days ago wants to see me again, but he’s not in as much of a hurry.”

“Toronnan?”

“That’s the guy.”

“Think it’s a setup?”

“Hard to say. He wants me to name the time and place, today or tomorrow. It would be hard to rig that.”

“Okay, Vlad,” said Kragar. “Do you want me to set up protection?”

“Damn right.”

“Good. I’ll take care of it. Where?”

“I’m still thinking about it. I’ll tell Melestav when I decide.”

He left to make arrangements.

“What do you think it is, boss?”

“I don’t know. I hope it’s not the beginning of another war; I don’t think I could handle it.”

“You and me both.”

“Maybe I should get out of this business, Loiosh.”

“Maybe you should.”

He fell silent and I considered. Maybe I should get out—out of the whole
thing. Killing people for money, earning a living from Teckla and fools, maybe I’d had enough. Maybe I could—

Could what? What would I do? I tried to imagine myself living like Morrolan or Aliera, safe on a piece of land somewhere watching the Teckla work the fields—or not watching as the case may be. Sitting around, indulging whatever vague curiosities came my way. No, I couldn’t see it. Perhaps my existence was pointless in any grand scheme of things, but it kept me entertained.

Yes, but was that sufficient justification for all the things I had to do, just to stay alive and in business? Well, why did I feel the need to justify myself in the first place? In part, I guessed, because of Cawti. She’d been just where I knew I didn’t want to be, idle and frustrated, and she’d handled it by getting involved with a bunch of crazies with a noble cause. What else? Well, there was my grandfather, whom I respected more than I respected anyone else. He knew what I did and, when I asked him, had given me his opinion on it. More fool me for asking.

But this was silly. Perhaps, later, I could decide if I wanted to change the way I lived, but right now my wife was in prison and I had just stirred up a school of orca by oh-so-gently threatening the Organization representative in the Imperial Palace, someone who ought to be left alone if anyone should. No, the Organization wasn’t about to let one lone Easterner get away with anything like that. I was going to have to either figure out a way to pacify them or figure out a way to escape. Maybe I’d relocate to Greenaere and learn to drum.

Or not.

“Melestav.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Find out where Aibynn is playing tonight and send a courier to Toronnan. Tell him we’ll meet him there at the eighth hour.”

“Okay, boss.”

“And put the word out that we might get hit soon.”

“Again?”

“I guess it’s just one of those years.”

“I guess so, boss.”

Making Friends II

T
HE
L
OQUACIOUS
M
ADMAN IS
on Czigarel Street near Undauntra, in a district with very little Organization activity. I arrived two or three minutes early with Sticks and an enforcer we called Glowbug. Kragar had said he’d be there, too, but I didn’t notice him. It is unlikely, however, that I would have noticed Sethra Lavode in that crowd. The festivities were already beginning. There were trails of cold fire traveling along all the walls; bouncing globes throughout the room, changing colors as they swirled; and ribbon trails hanging from the ceiling.

The crowd was mostly Teckla, all decked out like the bouncing globes in reds and yellows and blues, and merchants and artisans proudly wearing whatever they worked in, and brazenly flaunting their lovers, but here and there you could see the masked aristocracy of the House of the Tiassa or the Lyorn, adding a gentle touch of light blue or brown, and inserting whatever particular flavor of loud troublemaking or quiet drunkenness pleased them the most.

Which is not to say the place was crowded—yet. It’s a big place, and things were just starting to get going. It was loud, but not deafening. Either a very good or a very strange time and place to have a business meeting.

Toronnan arrived less than two minutes after I did, preceded (as was I,
by the way) by a couple of toughs who checked the place over for any sign of this being a setup. It isn’t easy to tell that sort of thing, even when there isn’t a celebration going on, but it can be done. You have to look at everyone in the place, especially the waiters, and note how each one carries himself, where he is placed, and if he seems to be carrying any concealed weapons, or looks familiar, or doesn’t seem to fit in.

I had done that a few times, and the one time it really had been a setup, for a guy named Welok, I had almost missed it that one of the cooks wasn’t using his knife the way a real cook would—instead of gripping it between thumb and forefinger on the blade with the pommel resting on the heel of his hand, he was gripping the pommel like a knife-fighter. I mentioned this to Kragar, with whom I was working, who looked closely and realized that he knew the guy. The meeting was called off, and three months later I was hired by Welok to kill an enforcer named Kynn who worked for Rolaan—the man who’d called the meeting.

But I digress. I hadn’t set up anything and neither had Toronnan. Indeed—this was a very bad situation to kill someone in, because the large and unpredictable crowd is likely to surprise you, and assassins
hate
surprises. He sat facing me, his back to the door. I started to signal a waiter over, but he didn’t let me. “This won’t take that long,” he said.

I kept my face expressionless. It is a major break in protocol to set up a business dinner and not eat. I wasn’t certain what it indicated, but it wasn’t good. I settled back in the chair and said, “Go ahead, then.”

“This has gone up to the Council. You have powerful friends there, but I don’t think they can help you this time.”

“I’m still listening.”

“We’re sorry your wife got involved in this, but business is business.”

“I’m still listening.”

He nodded. “I was up before the Council today. They asked if you could be shined without a fight. I said not unless they could find Mario. That doesn’t mean they aren’t going to try, but you probably have a reprieve. Do you understand?”

“Not quite. Keep talking.”

“We just had a big mess between you and this Herth character, and before that you had an altercation with some teckla that ended up with the Empire
stepping in, and in between was a big, bloody mess in the Hills between Be’er and Fyrnaan.”

“I heard about that. I wasn’t involved.”

“That’s not the point. The Organization has been calling way too much attention to itself and the Council is tired of it. That’s the only thing that’s keeping you alive.”