Dzur (15 page)

"You could walk over there."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about it."

"And?"

"This disguise is pretty good in the Easterners' quarter. I don't now if I want to bet my life on it in my old area."

"You've always been good at sneaking around without being noticed?'

"Yeah, good enough for most things, Loiosh. But the way they're looking for me now"

"Well, you could break into the house and see what you can find."

"I could, if I leave Lady Teldra behind."

"Oh. Right. I imagine that's not going to happen?'

"Doesn't seem likely?'

"This is good sausage?'

It was strange that, after years of wandering around the countryside, completely out of touch with everyone except the occasional emotionally damaged Teckla (there's a story there, but skip it), I felt more alone and isolated here, now, than in all that time. I suppose it was because I was physically close to so many of the people I had missed, but was still out of touch with them.

Once again, I touched the hilt of Lady Teldra. There was that feeling of presence again. It made me think of the time I had spent in the East. Not the unpleasant part, which was actually most of it, but the feeling of standing with my eyes closed, face up toward the Furnace, like a shower-bath of warmth. And yes, she had saved my life; but she had destroyed a soul in an action so automatic to her, so instinctive, that I hadn't even been aware it was happening.

Or was I reading too much into it? Very likely. There were probably, I don't know, mechanics involved-things that she just sort of did. Putting any kind of moral weight on her actions was perhaps like blaming the rock that someone throws at your head.

I badly wanted to be able to be able to communicate with her, but all I got was a vague sensation; pleasant, but frustrating.

If I'm not around when she wakes up, you'll remember to say hello for me, Sethra had said, or something like that.

"Hey! Lady Teldra! Wake up!"

She didn't.

I wanted to go to sleep, or get drunk, or something. What I needed was my old Organization, with all its sources of information, and legwork; but I couldn't reach Kragar or even Morrolan's network. I was isolated, and frighteningly helpless. Which was odd, considering that I still had all of my skills, my familiars, a lot of money, and a Great Weapon. If I could just---Hmmmm.

I did have a lot of money, didn't I?

"Boss? You have something?"

"Yeah," I told Loiosh. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Is it something stupid?"

"Oddly enough, no. There was something I'd forgotten."

"Which means-?"

I checked the time. It had made it to evening; there would now be people starting to fill the streets.

"Come on, Loiosh. It's time to move?'

"Sounds good. Does that mean there's a plan?"

"Just watch me."

9

Mihi removed the wine and replaced it with a new bottle, providing us with new glasses, as well. Again the feather, the glove, the tongs. Defrina is a white wine with just a hint of, of all things, cherries. The sweetness, which would normally have been too much for me, was cut by an extra chill that Mihi had put on it just for me. The first sip said a merry hello to the flavors already dancing around my tongue, and then it slid down my throat still leaving behind it the taste of the trout, but brightened just a little, if that makes any sense.

I leaned back and studied my dinner companion. "Fun," I repeated. He grinned and nodded.

The first several things that came to mind were all sarcastic, but sarcasm didn't really go with Valabar's trout and a good, chilled white wine. I said, "Can you explain that?"

He frowned and considered for a moment, then said, "You know, I don't think I can. I'll try."

I drank some wine and nodded.

"You see," he said. "There's this feeling you get when things are happening almost too fast for you to handle, and if you make a mistake, you're dead. You'd be scared out of your mind if you weren't too busy. Do you know what I mean?"

"Well, I know how I feel at times like that. I don't much care for it?'

"Don't you?"

I ate some more fish and drank some more wine.

"In fact," I said, "I don't remember enjoying it, or not enjoying it. Like you said, I'm too busy?'

"Well, there you are."

I grunted. "Afterward, though, I hate it."

He grinned. "I guess that's the difference?'

"As long as there is one."

"That's just what I was thinking, Loiosh."

"Of course," he added, "the cause enters into it as well."

"The cause?"

"The reason you're fighting."

"Oh. It isn't just to fight?"

"Well, sometimes it is."

"You mean, most of the time it is?"

"Yeah, most of the time."

"Uh huh?'

"But not the important times?'

"Mmm. Care to explain that?"

"It isn't difficult. When you do something big, you want it to matter." He looked at me. "Well, don't you?"

"I don't usually get into things by my own plan. I get dumped into them, and then I'm too busy trying to stay alive to think about the importance of the cause?'

He nodded as if he understood.

I had another bite of fish, and another sip of wine.

I remembered a friend I'd had named Ricard-one of the few people I knew who weren't involved with the Organization. He was an Easterner, a stocky fellow with thin hair, and we'd eaten dinner together, gotten drunk on his boat on the bay, and argued about matters great and small. He worked ten hours a day, four days a week, doing what I pretended to do keeping the books for a slaughterhouse-and two or three evenings a week would play obscure music on the cimbalon at an obscure house in South Adrilankha. Every couple of months he would have saved up enough silver to take me out for dinner at Valabar's, and I'd take him a month later; we might or might not have dates with us. He enjoyed good food more than anyone else I've ever met, which made him a very pleasant companion. Right about this point in the meal, he'd look up at me with a big grin and say, "This is why we work so hard."

Sandor-that's me, if you've forgotten-made his way generally southward, to the area where the streets start running downhill to-ward the eastern docks of Adrilankha. The streets were, indeed, more crowded now as evening fell. As people passed me by, I was struck again by a little thing I'd noticed before, when comparing people in this part of Adrilankha to those in "the City": Scars. I don't mean anything big or grotesque, but, like, one guy I passed had this little scar on the corner of his mouth; another had a slight white mark above an eyebrow. And, yes, here and there were missing limbs, or obvious, dramatic scars that spoke of someone who had a story to tell his grandchildren; but even the little ones you'd never see among Dragaerans, among those who could just pop over to a physicker and make the injury look like it had never happened. Dragaerans: the scarless people.

"What's funny, Boss?"

"Nothing, Loiosh. I was just imagining walking up to Morrolan and saying,

`Greetings, oh scarless one: "

"And that was funny?"

"Imagining the look on his face was funny."

The streets in this part of the city were very narrow indeed, and twisted even more than in most of South Adrilankha; I was once told that this was done by design, and had something to do with water runoff. While I won't claim to understand it, I have vague memories of being here once or twice as a child during heavy rainstorms, and that I enjoyed playing in the water that rushed down toward the sea.

There was nothing here to indicate the names of any of the streets, but I recognized the one I wanted, took it, and started climbing again. Except when the street widened now and then to make room for a market, everything was the same: cheap, wooden houses, each one with a single door, a stairway around the side, two windows on each floor, and rooms for four families. One after another, just like that, as if some peasant had planted them in rows, watered them, and they'd grown up and were just waiting to be harvested.

I found the one I wanted and walked up the stairway on the side.

"Remember, Boss. Pound, don't clap."

"I remember."

I pounded on the door with my fist.

After a moment, the door opened, and Ricard was standing there, wearing a raggedy white shirt and a pair of shorts. "Yes?"

"Hey there, Ricard."

He tilted his head at me, then his eyes widened and I got a big grin.

"Vlad! Come in! Mornin'!"

For Ric it was always morning, no matter what time of day it was. I'd never asked him why because I was afraid of the answer. "Brandy?" he said.

"Always."

It is very difficult to say no to Ricard.

His place, two rooms hung with pastoral watercolors, with a sort of kitchen attached to the main room, was comfortable enough, and I don't know what sort of brandy he brought me, but it was much silkier than what I usually drink, maybe not as complex, but there was no question it had been made from peaches, and it was just fine. We drank some and smiled.

"You're in disguise," he said, as if it were a joke.

"Yes, I am," I said, as if it weren't. "I half thought you'd be playing somewhere tonight."

"Tomorrow."

I nodded. "How have things been?"

"With me? Glorious. Ever heard of Bastrai?"

"The violinist? Sure, even I've heard of him."

"I went over to hear him at the Twisted Sheet, and when he was done, I ended up playing all night with his backup musicians."

"That must have been fun."

"It was wonderful." He grinned.

"I need to introduce you to a fellow I know named Aibynn. He's from the Island."

"He play?"

"He's a drummer."

Ric nodded, but didn't seem terribly excited; I guess he knew a lot of drummers.

We drank some brandy. Ricard sat back and looked half serious; which is about as serious as Ricard gets, barring catastrophe. "What's going on, Vlad?"

"I need help."

"Does this have something to do with your business?"

"No. Well, yeah, among other things. It's pretty complicated." Ricard knew what I used to do, at least some of it, but we

never talked about it. He nodded. "Could it get me killed?" I considered carefully. "I don't think so. Not for what I want you to do, and if you stay out of the rest of it."

"Okay. What do you need?"

"I take it you know a lot of people."

He frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"What with playing and all that, you meet a lot of people, that's all."

"Well, yes."

"Friends, acquaintances, just folks you run into, get their names, maybe hang out in an inn, or on the boat."

"Uh huh."

"I need to speak to some of them."

"Uh ... what sort of people?"

"People who need money, and don't mind taking some risks for it."

"So, this could get them killed?"

"Yeah."

He nodded. "How much money?"

"Enough for each them to buy a little piece of farmland." His eyes widened again, then he grinned. "Can I get in on this?"

"No. It can get them killed."

He drink some more brandy. "How likely is it?"

"To get them killed? I don't think very, but I might be wrong."

"Well-"

"No, Ricard. If you need that much money, I'll give it to you, but I don't want you involved in this. I couldn't stand it if, you know." He sighed and nodded. "Okay, then. Other than wanting money, and me not caring too much if anything happens to them, are there any other qualifications you need?"

"Well, it would help if they aren't complete idiots."

"Most people are, you know."

I grinned. That was one of the things we liked to argue about when too drunk to be coherent. "Find some of the exceptions," I said. He smiled. "I can do that. Where is Loiosh?"

"Flying around. If he's seen with me, there goes my disguise."

"Well, give him my best."

"I will. I have. He returns his reptilian regards, admitting that he is unworthy of your attention, yet eternally grateful for the honor you show him."

Ric laughed. Loiosh said, "Boss, you are so going to get it."

"All right, then," I said. "Can I buy you some dinner?"

"Sounds good. Let me get dressed."

"When we're out, call me Sandor."

"Sandor," he repeated. "Okay. I'll try to remember." We went out and down the street, to a place that catered mostly to dockworkers. We each had a roasted fowl covered in wine, and dark bread. It was simple, but good. Ricard didn't say much during the meal. I finally said, "Something bothering you, Ric?"

"Hmmm? No, just thinking about that list you want."

"Ah. Good. Think you can come up with names for me?"

"Oh, yes. Easy. Do you just want the list, or should I get them together for you?"

"Good question. I think I'd like to see them one at a time." He nodded, and flashed me a grin. "I could get to enjoy this sneaking-around stuff."

"You remind me of that last guy I ate with."

"Oh?"

"He was a Dzur, so it isn't his fault. But he liked Valabar's."

"You ate at Valabar's and didn't tell me?"

"It was sort of last-minute."

"How was it?"

"Just like you remember it, only better."

He nodded. "Next time?"

"You bet. On me."

"Other than that, how have things been?"

I don't know why I said what I did, because I've always thought of Ric as the sort of friend you had good times with, not the sort you dumped your troubles on. But he asked, and I heard myself say, "I've discovered, or maybe realized, that my Goddess has been messing with my memories."

"Huh?"

"My Goddess-"

"The Demon Goddess?"

"Yeah. Her."

"What did ... I mean, what's happened?"

"Memories have been going away and coming back. It's been going on for years, I guess, but something happened, and I've managed to put some of it together. Mostly little things, but the Demon Goddess did it, and it makes me very badly want to kill her, and I'm not entirely sure that I couldn't do it. In fact, I think I could. I want to. I-"