Iorich (21 page)

“No,” she said with no hesitation.

“It doesn’t to me, either.”

“Do you have an idea of how to deal with it?”

“One. Tell the Empress.”

“Vlad, do you know what happens if you do that?”

“Something pretty unpleasant for the Jhereg. Do I care?”

“What about for the Empire?”

“Do I care about that?”

“And for Zerika?”

“Like she cared how unpleasant it was for Aliera?”

“She did, you know.”

“Stop, Kiera, before you move me to tears. Oh, wait, no,
that’s the pain from the beating I got for asking questions about how much she cared.”

“I don’t think that’s why you got beaten.”

“No, neither do I. I think it was because it’s considered rude for Easterners who are also Jhereg to go asking questions about the Warlord.”

“Maybe.”

“You have another idea?”

“No, just a feeling.”

“A feeling.”

“The beating. It doesn’t feel right.” I started to make an obvious remark but she cut me off. “No, listen, Vlad. I’m serious. Try to reconstruct the sequence in your head.”

“It isn’t that hard. I was asking questions about Norathar, and—”

“Of whom?”

“Eh? Well, Norathar, first of all. And Cawti. And a servant in the Palace, who first told me Norathar was now Warlord.”

She nodded. “Go on.”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Is it? Where did these Dragonlords hear about it?”

“I assume from the Teckla. Or, indirectly from the Teckla.”

“That’s what’s bothering me.”

“You didn’t even know about it.”

She didn’t deign to answer that. “Imagine how they heard it.”

“The Teckla gossips to one of his friends, the Dragonlord overhears it—”

“When is the last time you knew of a Dragon listening to a Teckla’s gossip?”

I shrugged, which sent pain shooting from my rib to the
opposite shoulder. “Okay, then the Teckla mentions it to someone who someone will listen. Snake up a rope, as they say.”

“When did you speak to the Teckla?”

“Yesterday.”

“So, how long did this all take?”

“Kiera, how long
does
it take?”

“I’m not saying it’s impossible. I’m just suspicious.”

“What do you think happened instead?”

“I would very much like to know.”

“If you’re offering to look into it for me, you know I’m not going to turn you down.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, cross-legged, which was only strange when I thought about it later. “I’m not sure,” she said at last. “The fact is, I don’t want to look into it, I want to figure it out.”

“I know that one.”

“So, any ideas?”

“Yeah, give up. At least, it’s never worked for me.”

“Vlad—”

“Look, I still think it was just what it seemed to be. How can I figure out what I don’t think happened?”

“Work with me.”

I sighed. “All right, let’s assume you’re right. In the first place, if the beating wasn’t a message not to investigate the Warlord, then the message didn’t come across very well, because I have no idea what it might be about.”

“I think we can assume they weren’t telling you not to help Aliera.”

“That sounds pretty safe.”

“So, what else have you been doing that might have offended someone?”

“Hiding from the Jhereg. And you know how much Dragons hate that.”

“Heh.” Then she said, “No, wait a minute.”

“Kiera, if Dragonlords start caring about Jhereg business—”

“Vlad, what made you think they were Dragons?”

I sighed. “Everybody is asking me that. Mostly because if they were Jhereg, I’d be dead. And if they were Orca, I’d have won.”

“Orca? What do Orca have to do with this?”

I waved it away. “If they weren’t Dragonlords, who do you think they were?”

“I think they were Jhereg.”

“Then why didn’t they—”

“Because they weren’t hired to kill you, just to beat you.”

“By whom?”

“The Left Hand,” she said.

Q: Please state your name and house.

A: Efrin, Teckla.

Q: Where do you live?

A: Nowhere. I used to live in Tirma.

Q: Address the Court as “my lord.” You say you live nowhere, how is that possible?

A: My home was burned down on the same day my wife, my son, and my daughters were murdered by butchers in uniform.

Q: The witness is reminded to address the Court as “my lord.” How is it you weren’t there when it happened?

A: I was taking the mule and the kethna to Nuvin’s, to keep them safe from the monsters.

Q: The witness is reminded for the last time to address the Court with respect, and speak of the Imperial soldiers—

A: Imperial monsters. [witness is removed]

“All right,” I said at last. “Tell me about it.”

“How much do you know about the Left Hand of the Jhereg, Vlad?”

“Last time we spoke, about as much as you, and you knew nothing.”

“That was several years ago. You made me curious. I’ve been learning things.”

“Then maybe it’s time to fill me in on what you’ve learned?”

“I could tell you, but then I’d have—”

“That isn’t funny.”

“Yes it is.”

“Uh, all right. It is. But tell me anyway.”

She nodded. “You know how they started?”

“I’ve heard stories. Sorceresses expelled from different Houses for illegal sorcery banding together, that sort of thing.”

She nodded. “From me, as I recall. Well, they’re pretty much true, as far as I can tell. And, yes, they’re involved in illegal magic; everyone knows that, and it’s even true.”

“Rare for something everyone knows,” I suggested.

“But they’re also—I don’t know how to say this without insulting your culture, Vlad.”

“I have a pretty thick skin.”

“They have customs like an Eastern cult.”

“Um. I’m less insulted than I am confused.”

“Eastern magic—at least, in reputation—is secretive, yes?”

I thought about my grandfather and started to object, then remembered the other witches I’d encountered, and grunted an agreement.

“The Left Hand is like that, complete with oaths of silence and obedience and rituals of membership.”

“Huh. Doesn’t sound very businesslike.”

“That was my thought, too.”

“If the Jhereg tried to operate that way, they’d be laughed—”

“We used to.”

“What?”

“Before the Interregnum.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” She extended her hand and crossed her middle fingers and intoned, “For the breath of this life I bind myself to protect my protectors, to provide for my providers, to—”

“You’re kidding!”

She shook her head. “Not too many laughed about it, as it happened.”

“Good thing I wasn’t around then. I’d have laughed, and chances are they wouldn’t have cared for that.”

“Chances are,” she agreed.

“All right, so they wallow in childlike superstition in between making people unrevivifiable and eavesdropping on private conversations. What else?”

“All sorts of arcane rules.”

“Rules. The kind that are good for business, or the kind that interfere with business?”

“Some of one, some of the other, and some that depend.”

“Dammit, don’t be coy.”

“I’m giving you what information I have; you have to decide what’s useful and what isn’t. Isn’t that what you always do?”

“Uh. I guess. So, the beating?”

“The Left Hand doesn’t want you interfering with their machinations.”

“Then why not kill me?”

She shook her head. “You aren’t their problem. You’re the Right Hand’s problem.”

“But—”

“And don’t make the mistake of thinking they’re all one cohesive whole, Vlad. Individuals, factions—some might have wanted to take you out for the bounty, others don’t care about that, just want this interfering Easterner out of the way. But the big thing is this: the Jhereg—our Jhereg, the Right Hand—wants it Morganti. Having a few people dress up as Dragonlords to beat you up is one thing; putting a dull shine on you in the Imperial Palace is something else again.”

“A dull shine. I’ve never heard that euphemism before. It’s very, uh, vivid.”

She shrugged. “The fact that it has to be Morganti is protecting you. Isn’t that amusing?”

“I’m laughing on the inside; laughing on the outside hurts too much.”

She winced in sympathy. “Anything broken?” she asked.

“A rib cracked, I think.”

“Let me bind it.”

“You know how to do that?”

“You pick up a bit of everything, after a while. Take your shirt off.”

I sat up without assistance, but she helped in the shirt removal process. When a dagger dropped out from under my left armpit, she pretended not to notice. She also pretended not to notice various things strapped to my wrist. She pressed on the bruise, and when I hissed, she nodded sagely, just like a real physicker. She allowed as to how she’d be back shortly, and
then teleported out. She was back shortly—under a minute—with a roll of bandages.

I declined her help in standing up, for what reason I couldn’t say. Raising my arms hurt a lot. The process of wrapping the ribs wasn’t any fun, but I did feel better afterward, and even remembered to tell her so. She said, “Good. I’d give you all sorts of instructions about what to do and not do, but I don’t actually know them, except for the ones you’re going to ignore, and the ones you can’t help but follow, so let’s just pretend I did.”

“We also could have pretended to do the part where you poked my cracked rib.”

“Then how could you have trusted me to bind it? Let’s get back to untangling this mess.”

“I’m not sure I can think about anything except breathing right now, but I’m willing to try.”

“If you’d take that amulet off for a minute, I could—”

“No, thanks.”

“As you please. So, why were you beaten by people pretending to be Dragonlords?”

“Pretending.”

“Yes.”

“You just seem awfully convinced of that.”

She gave a Kiera shrug—more implied by the twitch of her lips than by any movement of her shoulder—and said, “I won’t say I can’t be wrong. I just don’t think I am.”