Tiassa (20 page)

“What are you going to give them?”

“The body of the guy who put it all together. I know it wasn’t you. You don’t work on that level.”

“His body.”

Norathar nodded.

“I see. And how will they know he’s the guy who did it?”

I’m still working that out,
she thought. “You’ll have to trust me on that.”

“Trust you.”

Norathar nodded.

“Well, you have a good reputation. And I don’t have much choice.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“No need. What do you want?”

“Who did it?”

“No, I mean: What is it you want for clearing this matter up for me?”

“Oh. That’s personal. I have my own reasons; you owe me nothing.”

He didn’t even pause. “His name is Dathaani.”

“How do I know he’s the one?”

“You’ll have to trust me.”

Norathar frowned. “Give me something.”

“I’ve nothing to give. Have someone talk to him, drop some hints and see how he reacts.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“I got nothing else.”

“All right. Where is he?”

“His home is on Garden, in the Cliffs. But he’s more likely to be at an abandoned inn on Newalter and Slate. That’s his rendezvous during the operation.”

Norathar stood. “I know the place. All right. If everything works out, I won’t be in touch.”

Rynend rose and nodded. “Then I look forward to not hearing from you.”

He escorted her to the door. She walked a hundred feet down the street and teleported.

Cawti was still waiting on the bench. Norathar approached her.

“What are you looking at?” said Cawti.

“Trying to decide if you’re pale.”

“Compared to whom?”

“Compared to how you look when you haven’t lost blood.”

“I’m fine.”

“All right.”

“Shall we take a coach?”

“Why not ride in comfort?”

Cawti took a step, then hesitated. “Norathar?”

“Hmmm?”

“Is this going to leave you vulnerable?”

“What do you mean?”

“Will it give the Jhereg leverage on you? They can threaten to tell what you’ve done—”

“They’re smart enough to know what will happen if they threaten me.”

Cawti nodded.

Norathar checked the time and said, “Sixteen minutes after the hour. One and six is seven.”

Cawti nodded, and they went to the seventh coach in line, earning dirty looks from the first six coachmen. They climbed in; the poor coachman was so startled that he had been selected that he had no chance to open the door for them, and only barely remembered to close it. Norathar gave him the streets.

The coach shook as the coachman climbed into his seat; then he made the “yip-ha” of his profession, and the team of horses—Norathar had thought they looked tired—put the coach into motion.

Newalter and Slate,
she thought.
I know the area. It’s just over the Stone Bridge, near the old refinery. Not much Jhereg activity. Not much of anything, in fact.
She looked at Cawti, who was looking at her, probably thinking the same thing. Cawti’s hands were in her lap, but a finger tapped the hilt of the dagger at her left hip.

It was a long ride; they settled in. Norathar faced forward, Cawti sat facing her. As they passed through Little Deathgate the coachman whistled, and the horses began to trot. Norathar chuckled, and noticed Cawti doing the same.
At least he didn’t drive around it,
she thought.

“You know the area better than me,” said Cawti. “When we arrive, what will we find?”

“Not much, anymore. There was a refinery there, years ago. It blew up.”

“I remember hearing about that.”

Norathar nodded. “No one lives there, few go there. The inn is called Antlers. I doubt it does any business, except for letting out the space to private parties once in a while.”

“Dathaani,” said Cawti.

Norathar nodded.

“You’ve heard of him?”

“The name sounds familiar, but I can’t recall from where.”

“We could take some time to learn about him,” said Cawti.

“We could,” said Norathar. “Except that we risk Her Majesty learning his name before we can act.”

“I keep forgetting that you care about that now.”

Norathar nodded, accepting the words at face value.

“So how do we play it?” asked her partner. “Make the body vanish? The Empire won’t be able to learn anything if he just vanishes.”

Norathar frowned. “I can’t say I like it much. Usually, there’s no one looking for your target until after the job. With this, lots of ways for things to go wrong.”

“I know. What do you suggest?”

“You’re the one with the ideas.”

Cawti laughed a little. “My idea is to kill him. We’ll worry about after, after.”

Norathar sighed. “I’d object if I had a better idea.” She hesitated. “There’s also another issue: making sure it’s the right guy.”

“My,” said Cawti. “That’s a problem we’ve never addressed before. Better tell me about it.”

Norathar related the conversation. Cawti listened, then was quiet for a while. “I don’t know,” she said at last.

“We could talk to him,” said Norathar.

Cawti scowled.

“Let’s think about it,” she said.

Norathar nodded.

Cawti turned her head and watched Adrilankha roll past. After a moment, Norathar did the same.

Eventually they arrived. The coachman dismounted and assisted Norathar out the door; Cawti managed on her own. Norathar paid him and said, “Wait for us; we shouldn’t be long.”

He bowed and climbed up to his seat, looking as if he were prepared to wait indefinitely.

There were few structures still standing in the area—the rubble had been cleared from what had once been the petroleum refinery, but there remained an empty lot surrounded by a few houses that appeared deserted. The inn was easily identified—the sign appeared freshly painted. It was a tall, thin wooden structure, and Norathar wondered how it had survived the explosion.

They approached the building and Cawti said, “Shall I…?”

“Yes.”

Her partner walked around the side of the building. Norathar waited until she had disappeared around the corner, then approached the front door. Norathar always took the front.

“Ready,”
said Cawti into her mind.

“Go,”
Norathar said, and stepped through the door.

The sound of the door opening echoed loudly, so any thought of surprise was gone at once.
“Drawing,”
she said, and did so.

To her right was a stairway, to her left and ahead was a single, large room. A bar on the right ran from near the stairway to the far wall, which had a single door, which, as she watched, flung open to reveal her partner, a dagger in each hand.

There was no sign of a host—nor was there any sign of bottles behind the bar. The room was full of small, round tables, with chairs upended on them, as if to clear the floor for sweeping. After a long fraction of a second, she saw that one table was occupied, its chairs set upright. The figure was, it seemed, looking at her from under a hood. As she watched, he reached up and pulled the hood back, revealing a head full of curly brown hair, and bright, sharp eyes. He carefully set his hands on the table, and waited.

Norathar approached, aware of Cawti closing the distance as well. She stopped just a bit more than her sword’s length away. The table was between them, but Cawti was behind him.

“You,” he said, “are not who I was expecting.”

Cawti looked at her; she mentally shrugged. “I imagine not.”

“Mind if I ask who you are?”

“We’re the ones who killed the assassins you sent after Lord Taltos.”

“Oh,” he said. He glanced behind him, seeing Cawti for the first time, then turned back to Norathar and said, “Who is the Lyorn?” Norathar saw Cawti’s eyes widen, but her partner gave no hint that there was danger, so she kept her eyes on the target.

“Actually,” said Whitecrest from behind Norathar’s right shoulder, “I’m a Tiassa.”

Norathar said, “You are Dathaani?”

“That’s my name, yes.”

Without turning, Norathar said, “Perhaps you should wait outside, Countess.”

“I won’t be a party to anything illegal.”

“That,” said Norathar patiently, “is why I suggested you wait outside.”

“No,” said the Countess. “I don’t play those sorts of games.”

From behind Dathaani, Cawti was expressionless; she was waiting for a signal, or to get an indication of what the play was.

Norathar wished she knew. “Why did you come, Countess?” she said.

“To speak to Dathaani. To find out if he really did what I think he did, for the reason I think he did it.”

“You think he’ll tell you?”

“You know, I’m sitting right here,” said Dathaani.

“Very well,” said the Countess. “Will you answer some questions?”

“Depends on the questions.”

Cawti shifted, just a little—Norathar read it as a question: Shouldn’t we just kill him and be done with it?

She barely shook her head, and waited.

“Is the Jenoine invasion real?” said the Countess.

“Perhaps,” said Dathaani, “you could give me some reason why I should answer?”

Norathar cleared her throat. “I can. It didn’t work. Four of the idiots—that is, the assassins—you sent after Lord Taltos are dead. If the Empire learns of your plan, and the Jhereg learns that the Empire has learned, what do you suppose will happen to you?”

Dathaani sat back in his chair. “I see your point.”

“We can, if nothing else, offer you a cleaner death.”

He nodded. “Yes, I suppose that’s something.” He sighed. “It’s irritating. I thought I had everything worked out.”

“I know the feeling,” said Cawti dryly.

“So,” said Norathar. “Care to answer her questions?”

He cleared his throat. “What was … I remember. No, it isn’t real.”

“How did you manage that?” said the Countess. “No, never mind. It isn’t important now. Later, maybe. It was all just a set-up to kill Lord Taltos?”

Dathaani coughed. “If I admit that—”

“Don’t be an idiot,” said Norathar. “We are so beyond that.”

Dathaani sighed again and nodded. “True. All right, yes. That’s what it was about.”

Whitecrest said, “Now what do we do, Highness?”

“This is your show, Countess. You tell us.”

“We bring him back to the Palace and turn him over to the Guard, I think.”

“What will happen to him?”

“I don’t know the law. It may count as treason, in which case he’ll be starred. Or it might simply be considered a nuisance on a grand scale, in which case a whipping will suffice. In either case, there won’t be action taken against the Jhereg, for which he’ll be held responsible.”

“That’s acceptable to me,” said Norathar. “You?”

“I didn’t think I had a choice,” said Dathaani.

“You don’t. I was asking my partner.”

Dathaani chuckled grimly.

“We’re done with the part I care about,” said Cawti. “I’m indifferent toward the rest.”

“I knew that,” said Norathar. “But I had to ask.”

Cawti nodded. Norathar noted, as she had before, that Cawti had the gift of perfect control of her muscles; when she moved her head, there was not a hint of movement of the point of either dagger. Still not turning her head, she said, “Very well, Countess. If you wish him arrested, then so be it.”

“Good,” said Whitecrest. “And you, Lord Dathaani. If you are arrested, will you make a full confession?”

“I will tell you everything but the names of the others who were involved,” he said.

“And did the man who hired you know that you were going to create anarchy, panic, and disorder throughout the city by your method?”

“No,” said Dathaani.

“Will you so testify under the Orb?”

“No,” said Dathaani.

Daro was quiet for a moment; then she said, “I think that will do.” Then she called loudly, “Come!” and Norathar, hearing the door open, turned her head and saw a pair of Dragonlords come into the room, both of them wearing the gold half-cloak of the Phoenix Guard.

When Norathar turned back, Dathaani was rising, his hands well clear of his body, palms out. He unbuckled his sword belt and put it on the table, then a pair of daggers followed it.

“Arrest that man,” said Whitecrest. “I’m not sure of the exact charge, but a suitable one will be found.”

The guards moved in and flanked Dathaani, one of them taking his arm above the elbow. They escorted him out the door.