Iorich

IORICH

BOOKS BY STEVEN BRUST

The Dragaeran Novels

Brokedown Palace

THE KHAAVREN ROMANCES

The Phoenix Guards
Five Hundred Years After
The Viscount of Adrilankha,
which comprises
The Paths of the Dead,
The Lord of Castle Black,
and
Sethra Lavode

THE VLAD TALTOS NOVELS

Other Novels

To Reign in Hell
The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars
Agyar
Cowboy Feng’s Space Bar and Grille
The Gypsy
(with Megan Lindholm)
Freedom and Necessity
(with Emma Bull)

S
TEVEN
B
RUST

A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK
NEW YORK

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events
portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously.

IORICH

Copyright © 2009 by Steven Brust

All rights reserved.

Edited by Teresa Nielsen Hayden

A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010

www.tor-forge.com

Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Brust, Steven, 1955–

     Iorich / Steven Brust. — 1st ed.

         p. cm.

     “A Tom Doherty Associates book.”

     ISBN 978-0-7653-1208-2

     1. Taltos, Vlad (Fictitious character)—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3552.R84I57 2010

  813'.54—dc22

2009040414

First Edition: January 2010

Printed in the United States of America

0   9   8   7   6   5   4   3   2   1

For Meridel Bianca

Thanks to Reesa Brown for potato pastries and other things too numerous to mention, and to Kit O’Connell for computer and research help. Anne K. G. Murphy provided some emacs help for which I remain grateful. Thanks to Brad Roberts and Thomas Bull for significant help in surviving until this was done. Finally, my thanks to Alexx Kay for continuity checking.

IORICH

Even if things don’t work the way you’d planned, it’s good when you can take something useful away from the experience.

They jumped me just as I was entering a little village called Whitemill at the southern edge of the Pushta. They had concealed themselves behind the long, broken hedge that bordered the Whitemill Pike before it turned into the single road of the hamlet. It was a good place for an attack. The nearest dwelling was perhaps a quarter of a mile away, and night was just falling.

There were three of them: Dragaerans, two men and a woman, wearing the colors of no special House. They all carried swords and knives. And they knew their business: the key to convincing someone to give up his cash is to be fast and very, very aggressive; you do not stand there and explain to your client why he should do what you want, you try to get him into a position where, before he has time to think, much less respond, he is at your mercy and hoping that somehow he can get out of this alive. When he hands over his purse, he should be feeling grateful.

Rocza took the man on the right, Loiosh flew into the face of the woman. I drew and disarmed the one in front of me with a stop-cut to the wrist, then took one step in and hit him in the nose with the pommel of my rapier. I took another step in and kicked the side of his knee.

He went down and I put the point at his throat. I said, “Intent to rob, intent to assault, assault, and failing to be selective in your choice of victim. Bad day for you.”

He looked at me, wide-eyed.

I gave him a friendly suggestion: “Drop your purse.”

The other man had run off, Rocza flying after him; the woman was doing what I call the Loiosh dance—futilely swinging her sword at him while he kept swooping in at her face then back out of range. He could do that all day.

The guy on the ground got his purse untied, though his fingers fumbled. I knelt and picked it up, the point of my rapier never moving from his throat. I spoke to my familiar.

“Get Rocza back. Let the other one go.”

“She’s on it, Boss.”

She returned and landed next to my client’s head and hissed.

“As long as you don’t move, she won’t bite,” I said. He froze. I went to the woman, who was still flailing about, and now looking panicked. I said, “Drop it.”

She glanced at Loiosh, then at me, then at her friend on the ground. “What about—”

“He won’t hurt you if you drop your weapon. Neither will I.”

Her sword hit the ground, and Loiosh returned to my shoulder.

“Your purse,” I told her.

She had less trouble untying it than her friend. She held it out to me.

“Just drop it,” I said.

She was very obliging.

“Now get out of here. If I see you again, I’ll kill you. If you try to follow me, I
will
see you.”

She sounded calm enough. “How did you—?”

“Wonder about it,” I said.

“Not a bad day’s work, Boss.”

“Lucky you spotted them.”

“Right. It was luck. Heh.”

“May I stay and help my friend?”

“No,” I said. “He’ll be along presently. You can pick up your weapons once I’m out of sight. I won’t hurt him.”