The Book of Athyra (25 page)

*  *  *

T
HEY WATCHED HIM SLEEP
for an hour or two; then Savn decided they should talk. He whispered to Polyi, and she agreed, so he took a torch and guided her back through the cave until he was certain they were far enough away that Vlad couldn’t hear them.

“What should we do?” he said.

“I think we should go home,” said Polyi. “If Mae and Pae really are worried—”

“What will we tell them?”

“The truth,” said Polyi.

“Oh?”

She frowned. “Well, it isn’t our problem, is it? Savn, you heard him. Now we
know
he wants to kill His Lordship. I mean, we know he can’t, but what if he does?”

“Well,” said Savn. “What if he does?”

“We have to stop him, that’s all.”

“Do we?”

“You heard what he is. He’s an assassin. He kills people for money. He—”

“He
used
to be an assassin. And what about His Lordship?”

“You don’t believe all that stuff he said, do you?”

“I don’t know. Why would he admit to being an assassin, then lie about everything else? It doesn’t make sense.”

“He’s an Easterner; maybe it makes sense to him.”

“That’s no answer.”

“Why not? Do you know how they think?”

Savn didn’t answer; in his mind, he kept hearing Vlad’s voice, echoing his own:
Why do people only see what they want to?
An unanswerable question, certainly. If Master Wag would even admit that it was true, he’d just say that it didn’t matter. And maybe it didn’t; maybe it was always going to be frustrating for someone who knew things that most people didn’t want to know. Maybe it was the way of the world.

But if what Vlad said was true, then, within a day, he’d been on both sides of the problem. He didn’t much like either one. How were you supposed to know what to believe, anyway?

“Come on, Polyi,” he said, and started back to the cavern where Vlad slept.

“You want to stay here?”

“I don’t know, but right now I want to talk to Vlad.”

“You know,” said Polyi, “I’m getting tired of this cave.”

Savn was tempted to tell her that she was along by her own choice, but decided it wouldn’t be nice. He wedged the torch once more into the rocks and sat down next to Vlad. The jhereg, at first watching him carefully, seemed to relax and go back to resting. Funny how they knew he didn’t intend to hurt Vlad. Maybe they had some means of knowing the truth. Maybe they were the only beings in the world who knew what was really going on, and they were secretly laughing at everyone else.

He laughed at the thought, and Vlad’s eyes opened.

“What’s funny?” said Polyi.

“I’ve just had a revelation,” said Savn. “Truth is in the eyes of the jhereg.”

Vlad blinked and shook his head. “Water?” he croaked.

Savn got him some, and said, “How do you feel?”

“Better,” he said. He drank more water, then looked at Savn patiently.

“Vlad, how do you know what the truth is?”

The Easterner didn’t laugh. He considered for a moment, then said, “Help me sit up.”

Savn did so, then helped him to the wall, which he rested against for a few minutes, recovering his breath. To Savn’s eye, he seemed to have made some improvement.

“Very often,” said Vlad, “I learn what is true by trying something and having it fail.”

“Oh,” said Savn. “I know about that. Master Wag talks about learning from errors.”

“Yes. I don’t recommend it.”

“You don’t?”

“No. It’s far better not to make mistakes, at least when your life is on the line.”

“Well, yes.”

Vlad chewed his lower lip. “It’s not that I’ve never thought about it,” he said. “I have. That happens when you associate with philosophers. The
trouble is, you get different answers depending on whether you really want to know, or if you just want to argue about it.”

“I don’t want to argue about it,” said Savn.

“I suspected that. That makes it harder.”

Polyi said, “Savn, what are you doing?”

Vlad answered for him. “He’s trying to make a very difficult decision.”

Polyi snorted. “Savn, you’re going to ask
him
how to decide whether you should turn him in? Well, that really makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“I think it does,” said Savn. He turned back to Vlad. “What were you saying?”

Vlad was frowning at the floor. He didn’t look up. “I wasn’t saying anything. I was thinking.”

“Well?”

Then he did look up, squinting at Savn. “Let’s start with this,” he said. “Suppose everyone you know says there’s no cave here. Is that the truth?”

“No.”

“Good. Not everyone would agree with you, but I do.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Vlad thought for a moment longer, then suddenly shook his head. “There’s no easy answer. You learn things bit by bit, and you check everything by trying it out, and then sometimes you get a big piece of it all at once, and then you check
that
out. I know what your problem is. Everyone thinks that your Baron can’t be killed, and, furthermore, he’s a great guy, and here I am with a different story, and you don’t know who to believe. I understand the problem. Sorry, I can’t give you any answers.

“But,” he resumed suddenly, as if a thought had just occurred to him, “I can point out a few things. First of all, the only reason you think he’s so wonderful is because you know people from Bigcliff, who have a real scum of a Dzurlord. So what makes your Baron so great is that you have someone horrible to compare him with. As I recall, you weren’t very impressed when you learned that I could have done worse things to you than I did, and you were right. As far as I’m concerned, saying someone could be much worse is not much of a recommendation.”

Savn shook his head. “But he’s never done anything to us.”

Vlad’s eyebrows twitched. “Doesn’t he come by and pick the best portion of your crop, and take it for himself?”

“Well of course, but that’s just—”

“I don’t want to argue it,” said Vlad. “There’s no point in talking about
all of the things you take as the natural order of life that I don’t think are. But that’s part of the answer to your question, which is just to ask questions of everyone, and of yourself. Try to identify the assumptions you make, and see if they stand up. Master Wag, you said, scoffs at witchcraft, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Well, why do you chant to drive fevers away? The incantations you use resemble witchcraft more than a little.”

“Maybe they do,” said Savn. “But I know witchcraft works, so why shouldn’t the chanting?”

“Sure,” said Vlad. “But how does Master Wag explain it?”

“Well, it’s because the Fever Imps—”

“How do you know there are Fever Imps at all?”

“Because the chanting works.”

“Fair enough. Why, then, do you also use herbs, and why go to such effort to keep me cool?”

“You need all those things.”

“Are you sure? Maybe the herbs would work by themselves. Maybe the chanting would work by itself. Maybe all I’d need is to be kept cool. How do you know?”

“Well, I assume, since it’s been done that way for years—”

“Don’t assume, find out.”

“You mean, I can’t know anything until I’ve proven it for myself?”

“Hmmmm. No, not really. If someone learns something, and passes it on, you don’t have to go through everything he learned again.”

“But, then—”

“But you don’t have to accept it on faith, either.”

“Then what do you do?”

“You make certain you understand it; you understand it all the way to the bottom. And you test it. When you both understand why it is the way it is, and you’ve tried it out, then you can say you know it. Until then—”

“But can you ever
really
understand something?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Savn fell silent. Eventually, Vlad cleared his throat and said, “I’m afraid I haven’t helped you much.”

Savn looked up at his odd face, with the thick black hair down in front of his ears and above his thin lip, more dark hair falling in waves inelegantly to his shoulders, with wrinkles of age on his forehead where none
should yet be. Savn wondered how many people he had killed, and how rich he had become doing it, and why he had stopped.

“No,” he said. “You’ve helped me a great deal.”

Vlad gave a terse nod.

Savn said, “Would you like to tell me what you’re going to do now?”

“What, before I know whether you plan to help me or betray me?”

“Haven’t you been asking me to trust you, in spite of all the reasons you’ve given me not to?”

“I suppose I have,” said Vlad.

“Well, then, why shouldn’t I ask you to trust me, in spite of those very same reasons?”

Vlad looked at him for what seemed to be a long time. Never before had Savn wished so much to know what someone’s thoughts were; he was very much aware of the two jhereg, sitting patiently at Vlad’s side, with their poison fangs barely concealed by their reptilian jaws. Then, abruptly, Vlad laughed. “Well taken. I can’t argue, so I concede. But what about you?” he added, looking at Polyi.

She stared back at him, then turned to Savn. “Whatever you do, I’ll go along with it.”

“Are you sure?” said Savn.

“Yes.”

Savn turned back to Vlad. “Well?”

The Easterner nodded. “If you follow the waterway, you’ll find it seems to run into a wall. If you go under the wall, it splits into several streams, none of which has much water, and all of which end in identical walls that look natural. Some of these—four, as far as I can tell—actually lead into the basement of the manor house. They are probably sorcerously controlled.”

“Can you get past them?”

“Yes, given enough time.”

“How?”

“You mostly wear your way through with diligence, patience, and a chisel.”

“Can’t you knock it down with sorcery?”

“Not without alerting him; he’s very good.”

“Then why can’t he find you?”

“Because I’m very well protected against being found.”

“So is that what you’re going to do? Break through the wall and . . . and murder him?”

“Not a chance. He may be expecting me to do that, he may not, but he’ll certainly be guarding against it. I might, however, make him think that’s what I’m doing. It’s the obvious way in.”

“Then what will you do?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I’ve got a few things going for me, but I haven’t figured out how to make them work.”

“What things?”

“The assassin. He’s not getting along with Loraan at all.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he’s been there for more than a week, and Loraan made that attack on me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The Jhereg,” said Vlad, looking straight at Savn, “want me to be killed with a Morganti weapon. Loraan’s attacks were not bluffs—he tried to kill me and almost succeeded. He—”

“Wait a minute. Attacks?”

“Yes. There have been two so far.”

“I only know of the one at Tem’s house.”

“The other happened the day before. I got careless and allowed myself to be seen too close to his manor house, and he made a sorcerous attack on me.”

“And it failed?”

“I have,” said Vlad, “a few tricks up my sleeve. I was really sloppy in staying at Tem’s house long enough for them to find me. My only excuse is that it’s been some years now since I’ve had to worry about that sort of thing. In any case, neither attack would have been Morganti; neither would have satisfied the Jhereg. So my conclusion is that Loraan is just barely cooperating with them, and they are just barely cooperating with him. They need each other, because this is Loraan’s area and because the Jhereg have the expert assassins. But neither of them like it. That’s what I hope to use. I’m not certain how to go about it, though.”

“I see,” said Savn.

“Have I answered your questions?”

“Yes.”

“Then, do you care to tell me what you’re going to do?”

“I won’t turn you in,” said Savn.

That seemed to satisfy Vlad, who closed his eyes and breathed deeply, leaning against the wall.

“You tire easily, don’t you?”

“I think,” he said, “that I’ll be able to begin healing myself in a day or two. After that, it shouldn’t be long.”

“So the idea is to keep you safe for two days.”

“More or less. Less, I hope.”

“Do you think this place is secure?”

Vlad frowned, then looked at the jhereg, who rose and flew out of the cave. “Maybe,” said Vlad. “But, in any case, we will now be warned of anyone approaching, so, as long as they don’t put a teleport block up over the entire area, I’ll have a chance to get out.”

“A
what
over the area?”

“Never mind. Loraan would either have to know exactly where I was, or be willing to use a great deal of power to cover the entire area.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Skip it. I’m saying that whatever happens, at least we’ll be warned.”

Savn stared at the place where the jhereg had disappeared into the narrow corridor that accompanied the subterranean stream. “Yes,” he said. “At least we’ll be warned.”

*  *  *

S
AVN AND
P
OLYI CLEANED
up the cooking pot, which Savn put back into the bag. He carefully wrapped the good kitchen knife. They assisted Vlad once more to get to his blankets; he needed less help than he had before.

It didn’t seem to matter that outside the cave, which was already beginning to feel like another world, it was early afternoon; Polyi claimed to be tired, and so lay down among her furs, and soon began to breathe evenly. Savn lit fresh torches and tidied up the area. Was it Endweek again? If he were at home, would he be cleaning? What would Mae and Pae say when they saw him again? Were they really worried?

Could he trust anything Vlad said?

While Vlad and Polyi slept, Savn thought over all that Vlad had told him. What if the herbs were unnecessary to combat fever, and they’d just been used from the custom of years uncounted? What if
any
custom could be wrong? What if His Lordship was undead?

He considered truth and knowledge and trust, and responsibility, until they whirled around in his head empty of meanings, only occasionally coming to light on some real example of deceit, ignorance, betrayal, or neglect, which would give him some hint of understanding before vanishing once more into the whirlpool of half-understood platitudes and questionable wisdom.