Dragon

"I imagine I'll find out."

"Do you trust him?"

"Within limits. I doubt he wants to have me killed."

"Oh, good. Nothing to worry about, then."

I handled a few things around the office, then went down into what I called the "lab" and performed a very minor and easy ritual to help along the healing in my side—just a few instructions to the damaged parts suggesting they go ahead and heal; the indication of success was how hungry I was after, so I went over to the Garden House and had a big plate of egg noodles with squid and leeks to help the process along. Then I headed to Turningham's and looked for a book, found a historical romance by Munnis that I hadn't read, bought it, went home, read the first page, and set it aside for later. I discovered I was hungry again, and that my side was itching and feeling better, all of which meant my spell really was working. I've performed spells of that type, oh, I don't know, maybe a score of times, yet I still get a little thrill, almost of surprise, when I see evidence of it working; like I'm putting one over on nature.

I ate some bread and cheese, took a nap, and Loiosh woke me up a few minutes before the seventh hour.

I managed the teleport myself, without too much difficulty, and arrived right at the appointed hour. The spot at which Morrolan had me appear was a quarter of a mile away from a mass of humanity, all gathered together directly in front of the sheer cliff, which stretched up until its top was lost in the overcast. It was much bigger than I had guessed. I studied it until my neck hurt, then, as my gaze returned to what appeared to be a gathering of several hundred people, at which I could see new arrivals teleporting in at an alarming rate, Loiosh made a squeaking sound and dived into my cloak.

"What—?"

"Didn't you see them, Boss?"

"No, I was looking at—"

"Giant Jhereg, just like at Deathgate Falls."

"We can't be anywhere near there."

"Tell them that."

I looked up again, and, yeah, there were a few shapes that occasionally dipped out of the overcast, circled, and vanished again.

"They're very graceful, Loiosh. You should watch."

"You should drown in a chamberpot, Boss."

"Greetings, Vlad."

I jumped a little, then turned around and said, "Hello, Morrolan. What's the occasion?"

"A ceremony to honor Baritt's passing over Deathgate Falls."

"What? We're near there?"

"No. But his tomb will be here."

"His tomb? I don't … how can he have a tomb if his body is going over the Falls?"

"Well, it's not a tomb exactly. Call it a cenotaph. Or a monument. But this mountain has been selected as the place to be consecrated to his memory."

"He gets a whole mountain?"

"He earned it."

"What do I have to do to earn a mountain?"

Morrolan chose not to answer. He said, "I should appear at the ceremony. Would you like to come along?"

"Is that a joke? As what?"

"My retainer. I have the right to have anyone I choose in my suite."

"An Easterner? A Jhereg?"

"Certainly."

"You have something in mind, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Want to let me in on it, in my capacity as the device to be exploited?"

"I'd rather surprise you."

"I'm not all that fond of surprises."

"I understood that you wanted to exact payment from our friend Fornia for what he did to you."

"Yeah."

"Well then, come along and let's do so."

I sighed. "All right, lead on. But … skip it."

He led the way. As we approached, I spotted Aliera off to one side; she stood out as the shortest individual in the crowd. She spotted us and waved. A few others noticed us; I caught some double takes, and suspected I was now the object of a great deal of conversation among a few score Dragonlords. I had mixed feelings about this, but it wasn't all unpleasant. Morrolan, who had brought me, after all, was wearing the dexter half of a smile.

I said, "You enjoy being talked about, don't you?"

He smirked outright, but gave no other answer.

We reached Aliera, who nodded to me and looked a question at Morrolan, who said, "He is considering joining our cause."

"Against Fornia?" I nodded, and she said, "You're taking this a little personally, aren't you?"

"I think I will soon begin to take personally everyone telling me I'm taking things personally."

"Do that," she said. Then, to Morrolan, "But why bring him here?"

"I have reasons, my dear cousin. A little patience and you will know."

I could see Aliera deciding whether to take offense; eventually she gave a hint of a shrug and turned away. I was standing in quite a crowd of Dragons, many of whom were giving me looks; more of whom were glancing at Morrolan. He appeared to be enjoying the attention. I spotted a familiar figure: Ori. He was looking at me.

"Vlad!" said Morrolan sharply.

"What?"

"This isn't the place."

I almost asked "For what?" before I realized that my hand was on my sword hilt. It took a deliberate effort to drop my arm back to my side. Ori was standing next to a very old Dragonlord, who had dressed himself in the simplest military fashion: black everything with buttons and hems of silver. His face was wrinkled as a prune, and his slitted eyes were studying me.

I said, "Fornia?"

"Yes," said Morrolan.

I studied the man, then turned once more to Morrolan. "Well, here you both are."

"Yes?"

I shrugged. "Why don't you just kill him?"

He graced me with a scaled-down smile. "There are more reasons than I have time to expound upon."

"Name three."

"All right. One: We are at a ceremony where violence would be improper. Two: If I initiated violence at this ceremony, everyone would take his side and we'd be outnumbered about three hundred to one. Three: I want to see what happens if he's left alone."

I grunted. The second answer seemed convincing enough. And what happened was that Fornia and Ori approached us. Morrolan bowed deeply, Fornia acknowledged; I assume the difference in the bows had to do with respective age. Fornia looked me over and said to Morrolan, "What is he doing here?"

"Taking your measure, Lord Fornia. He seems to have developed a grudge against you, and I permitted him to accompany me so that he might get a good look at you. For later," he added.

"I've just explained to him why he ought not to do anything improper just at the moment."

This seemed to be my cue, so I gave Fornia a big smile.

Fornia turned his head and spat.

I said, "In the desert culture of my people, to spit in a man's presence is to demonstrate loyalty. Am I to assume that you are my vassal?"

"You're making that up, aren't you, Boss?"

"What do you think, Loiosh?"

Ori said conversationally, "I should have killed you."

"Yes," I said promptly. "You should have. Your mistake. You won't be permitted another."

He took a step closer, so that he could look down on me. "Are you threatening me, Easterner?"

I grinned up at him. "Yes, but not as an Easterner; as a Jhereg. That's an entirely different matter, isn't it?" At that point Loiosh, who has always had a gift for theater, emerged from my cloak and climbed up to my shoulder.

Ori jumped, startled, in spite of himself, then he scowled. He said, "I will rip your soul from your body and bind it to an iron kettle so I can contemplate how your arse burns when I cook my stew."

"Good thinking," I said. "I know some excellent stew recipes if you need them. Adding a little fennel, for example, will—"

"That's enough, Vlad," said Morrolan.

"If you say so," I told him. "But I tell you, you Dragaerans don't know how to cook."

"Vlad—"

"Except for the occasional Lyorn, who seem—"

"Vlad!"

I shrugged and gave Fornia and Ori another big grin.

Fornia said, "I am not worried. You would not countenance assassination, Lord Morrolan."

"Of course not," said Morrolan. "And I assure your lordship I've been trying to talk my associate out of doing anything rash."