Jhereg (18 page)

"He seemed to be."

"Good. It's always nice to help people."

"Isn't it, though?"

"How did you happen to get hold of the volume? I understand that it's quite rare and hard to come by."

He smiled a little. "I'm surprised Morrolan asked," he said, which told me something. Not much perhaps, but it confirmed that he knew that I worked for Morrolan. File that away.

"He didn't," I said. "I was just curious myself." He nodded, and the smile came on again briefly.

We made small talk for a while longer, each letting the other be the first to commit himself to revealing how much he knew in a gambit to learn what the other knew. I decided, after a while, that he was not going to be first. He was the one with only a little to gain, so--"I understand Aliera introduced herself to you." He seemed startled by the turn of the conversation. "Why, yes, she did."

"Quite remarkable, isn't she?"

"Is she? In what way?"

I shrugged. "She's got a good brain, for a Dragonlord."

"I hadn't noticed. She seemed rather vague, to me."

Good! Unless he was a lot sharper than he had any right to be, and a damn good liar (which was possible), he hadn't realized that she'd been casting a spell as she was speaking to him. That gave me a clue as to his level of sorcery--not up to hers.

"Indeed?" I said. "What did you talk about?"

"Oh, nothing, really. Pleasantries."

"Well, that's something, isn't it? How many Dragons do you know who will exchange pleasantries with a Jhereg?"

"Perhaps. On the other hand, of course, she may have been trying to find something out about me."

"What makes you think so?"

"I didn't say I thought so, just that she may have been. I've wondered myself as to her reasons for seeking me out."

"I can imagine. I haven't noticed that Dragons tend toward subtlety, however. Did she seem irritated with you?"

I could see his mind working. How much, he was thinking, should I tell this guy, hoping to pull information out of him? He couldn't risk a lie that I would recognize, or I wouldn't be of any further use to him, and he couldn't really know how much I knew. We were both playing the same game, and either one of us could put the limit on it. How much did he want to know? How badly did he want to know it? How worried was he?

"Not on the surface," he said at last, "but I did get the impression that she might not have liked me. It ruined my whole day, I'm telling you."

I chuckled a little. "Any idea why?"

This time I'd gone too far. I could see him clam up.

"None at all," he said.

Okay, so I'd gotten a little, and he'd gotten a little. Which one of us had gotten more would be determined by which one of us was alive after this was over.

"
Well, Loiosh, did you find out anything?
"

"
More than you did, boss.
"

"
Oh? What in specific?
"

Mental images of two faces appeared to my mind's eye.

"
These two. They were watching you the entire time from a few feet away.
"

"
Oh, really? So he has bodyguards, eh?
"

"
At least two of them. Are you surprised?
"

"
Not really. I'm just surprised that I didn't pick up on them.
"

"
Iguess they're pretty good.
"

"
Yeah. Thanks, by the way.
"

"
No problem. It's a good thing that one of us stays awake.
" I made my way out of the banquet hall and considered my next move. Let's see. I really should check in with Morrolan. First, however, I wanted to talk to one of the security people and arrange for some surveillance on those two bodyguards. I wanted to learn a bit about them before I found myself confronting them on any important issue. Morrolan's security officer on duty had an office just a few doors down from the Library. I walked in without knocking--the nature of my job putting me a step above this fellow. The person who looked up at me as I stepped in was called Uliron, and he should have been working the next shift, not this one. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "Where is Fentor?"

He shrugged. "He wanted me to take his shift this time, and he'd take mine. I guess he had some kind of business."

I was bothered by this. "Do you do this often?" I asked.

"Well," he said, looking puzzled, "both you and Morrolan said it was all right for us to switch from time to time, and we logged it last shift."

"But do you do it often?"

"No, not really very often. Does it matter?"

"I don't know. Shut up for a minute; I want to think."

Fentor was a Tsalmoth, and he'd been with Morrolan's security forces for over fifty years. It was hard to imagine him suddenly being on the take, but it is possible to bring pressures down on anyone. Why? What did they want?

The other thing I couldn't figure out was why I had such a strong reaction to the switch. Sure, it was coming at a bad time, but they'd done it before. I almost dismissed it, but I've learned something about my own hunches: the only time they turn out to be meaningful is when I ignore them.

I sat on the edge of the desk and tried to sort it out. There was something significant about this; there had to be. I drew a dagger and started flipping it.

"
What do you make of this, Loiosh?
"

"
I don't make anything of it, boss. Why do you think there's something wrong?
"

"
I don't know. Just that there's a break in routine, right now, when we know that the
Demon wants togetat Mellar, and he isn't going to let the fact that Mellar is in Castle
Black stop him.
"

"
You think this could be a shot at Mellar?
"

"
Or the setup for it. I don't know. I'm worried.
"

"
But didn't the Demon say that there wouldn't be any need to start a war? He said it
could be 'worked around.'
"

"
Yes, he did. I hadn't forgotten that. I just don't see how he can do it--
" I stopped. At that moment, I saw very clearly how he could do it. That, of course, was why the Demon had tried to get my cooperation and then tried to kill me when I wouldn't give it. Oh, shit.

I didn't want to take the time to run down the hall. I reached out for contact with Morrolan. There was a good chance that I was already too late, of course, but perhaps not. If I could reach him, I would have to try to convince him not to leave Castle Black, under any circumstances. I'd have to ... I became aware that I wasn't reaching him. I felt myself slipping into automatic--where my brain takes off on its own, and lets me know what I'm supposed to do next. I concentrated on Aliera, and got contact.

"
Yes, Vlad? What is it?
"

"
Morrolan. I can't reach him, and it's urgent. Can you find him with Pathfinder?
"

"
What's wrong, Vlad?
"

"
If we hurry, we might be able to get him before they make him unrevivifiable.
" The echo of the thoughts hadn't died out in my head before she was standing next to me, Pathfinder naked in her hand. I heard a gasp from behind me, and remembered Uliron.

"Hold the keep for us," I told him. "And pray." I sheathed my dagger; I wanted to have both hands free. If I don't know what I'm going to run into, I consider hands to be more versatile than any given weapon. I longed to unwrap Spellbreaker and be holding it ready, but I didn't. I was better off this way. Aliera was deep in concentration, and I saw Pathfinder begin to emit a soft green glow. This was something I despised--having to sit there, ready to do something, but waiting for someone else to finish before I could. I studied Pathfinder. It shimmered green along its hard, black length. Pathfinder was a short weapon, compared to most swords that Dragaerans use. It was both shorter and heavier than the rapiers I liked to use, but in Aliera's hands it was light and capable. And, of course, it was a Great Weapon. What is a Great Weapon? That's a good question. I wondered the same thing myself as I watched Aliera concentrating, her eyes narrowed to slits, and her hand steadily holding the pulsating blade.

As far as my knowledge goes, however, there is this: a Morganti weapon, made by one of the small, strange race called Serioli that dwell in the jungles and mountains of Dragaera, is capable of destroying the soul of the person it kills. They are, all of them, strange and frightening things, endowed with a kind of sentience. They come in differing degrees of power, and some are enchanted in other ways.

But there are a few--legend says seventeen--that go beyond "a kind of sentience." These are the Great Weapons. They are, all of them, powerful. They all have enough sentience to actually
decide
whether or not to destroy the soul of the victim. Each has its own abilities, skills, and powers. And each one, it is said, is linked to the soul of the one who bears it. It can, and will, do anything necessary to preserve its bearer, if he is the One chosen for it. And the things those weapons can do. ...

Aliera tugged at my sleeve and nodded when I looked up. There was a twist down in my bowels, the walls vanished, and I felt sick, as usual. We were standing in what appeared to be an unused warehouse. Aliera gave a gasp, and I followed her glance. Morrolan's body was lying on the floor a few feet from us. There was a dark red spot on his chest. I approached him, feeling sicker than ever. I dropped to my knee next to him and saw that he wasn't breathing.

Aliera sheathed Pathfinder and dropped down beside me. She ran her hands over Morrolan's body once, her face closed with concentration. Then she sat back and shook her head.

"Unrevivifiable?" I asked.

She nodded. Her eyes were cold and gray. Mourning, if there was to be any, would come later.

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"Tread lightly near thine own traps."

"Is there anything we can do, Aliera?"

"I'm not sure," she said. "Bide." She carefully ran her hands once more over Morrolan's body, while I made a cursory survey of the warehouse. I didn't find anything, but there were several areas that I couldn't see.

"I can't break it," she said at last.

"Break what?"

"The spell preventing revivification."

"Oh."

"However, the sorcerer who put it on could, if it's done soon enough. We'll have to find him quickly."

"Her," I corrected automatically.

She was up in an instant, staring at me. "
You know who did it?
"

"Not exactly," I said. "But I think we're safe in limiting it to the Left Hand of the Jhereg, and most of them are female."

She looked puzzled. "Why would the Jhereg want to kill Morrolan?" I shook my head. "I'll explain later. Right now, we have to find that sorceress."

"Any suggestions as to how we do this?"

"Pathfinder?"

"Has nothing to work with. I need a psionic image, or at least a face or a name. I've checked around the room, but I'm not able to pick up anything."

"You generally don't with Jhereg. If she's competent, she wouldn't have had to feel any strong emotions in order to do what she did."

She nodded. I began looking around the room, hoping to find some kind of clue. Loiosh was faster, however. He flew around the perimeter and quickly spotted something.

"
Over here, boss.
"

Aliera and I rushed over there, and almost tripped over another body, lying face down on the floor. I turned it over and saw Fentor's face staring up at me. His throat had been cut by a wide-bladed knife, used skillfully and with precision. The jugular had been neatly slit.

I turned to Aliera, to ask if he was revivifiable, but she was already checking. I stepped back to give her room.

She nodded, once, then laid her left hand on his throat. She held it there for a moment and removed it. The wound was closed, and from where I stood I could only barely make out a faint scar.

She continued checking over his body and turned it over to make sure that there was nothing on his back. She turned it over again and laid both of her hands on his chest. She closed her eyes, and I could see the lines of tension on her face. Fentor started breathing.

I let the air out of my lungs, realizing that I'd been holding it in. His eyes fluttered open. Fear, recognition, relief, puzzlement, understanding. I wondered what my own face had looked like, that time Aliera had brought me back to life.

He reached up with his right hand and touched his throat; he shivered. He saw me, but had no reaction that indicated guilt. Good; he hadn't been bought off, at least. I'd have liked to have given him time to recover, but we couldn't afford it. Every second we waited made it that much less likely that we could find the sorceress who had finished off Morrolan. And we had to find her and make her--I reached out for contact with Kragar. After a long time, or so it seemed, I reached him.

"
What is it, boss?
"

"
Can you get a fix on me?
"

"
It'll take a while. Problems?
"

"
You guessed it. I need a Morganti blade. Don't bother making it untraceable this time,
just make it strong.
"

"
Check. Sword, or dagger?
"

"
Dagger, if possible, but a sword will do.
"

"
Okay. And you want it sent to where you are?
"

"
Right. And hurry.
"

"
All right. Leave our link open, so I can trace down it.
"

"
Right.
"

I turned back to Fentor. "What happened? Briefly."

He closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

"I was sitting at the security office, when--"

"No," I interrupted. "We don't have time for the whole thing right now. Just what happened after you got here."

He nodded. "Okay. I showed up, was slugged. When I woke up I was blindfolded. I heard some talking, but I couldn't make out anything anyone said. I tried to reach you, and then Morrolan, but they had some kind of block up. I sat there for about fifteen minutes and tried to get out. Someone touched me on the throat with a knife to let me know I was being watched, so I stopped. I felt someone teleport in, around then, and then someone cut my throat." He winced and turned away. When he turned back, his face was composed again. "That's all I know."