Dragon

"Your veiled threats," said Fornia, "are as empty and absurd as your pet Easterner's coarse ones."

"Exactly," said Morrolan with a bow.

"If you want what is mine," said Fornia, "you may attempt to take it from me."

"Yours by right of theft, my lord?"

Fornia laughed. "You stand with a Jhereg at your heel and speak to me of theft?"

"You stand with a thug at your elbow and speak to me of Jhereg?"

"This is pointless," said Fornia, and turned away.

"So, as I understand it, is the weapon you've taken."

Fornia turned back, gave Morrolan a smile over his shoulder, then walked away, Ori trailing after him.

"And that, my dear Vlad," said Morrolan as soon as Fornia was out of earshot, "is what we came for."

"To bait him?"

"No, to see that smile."

"Oh. And what did you learn?"

"That whatever he was after, he got it."

"Excuse me?"

"The sword he took was what he was after, not a test, and not a failed effort at something else."

"But then, what is it?"

"I don't know."

"Morrolan, it was a very weak, very large, Morganti greatsword."

"No, it was more than that. Exactly what it is I still don't know, but more than that. I now know at least that much for certain."

"Because of that smile?"

"Because of that smile."

"If you say so. And, I take it, I was here to provide a basis for the sparring match?"

"That, yes, and to make him think. And maybe to worry him a little."

"If you worry him too much, he may decide you really do intend to have him assassinated, and he might beat you to the punch."

"He'd no more hire an assassin than I would."

"But Morrolan, you have."

"You know what I mean."

"Sure. But does he?"

"We've made our point here, Vlad. I must stay for the service, but you can return home if you wish. Or stay; it's up to you."

"What's going to happen?"

"Aliera will go forward and deliver a benediction, asking the Gods to receive Baritt's soul, and then his deeds will be related, and those who knew him will tell all manner of lies about what a fine fellow he was, and a bullock will be sacrificed to whoever his patron deity was—Barlen, if I'm not mistaken—and Aliera will perform another benediction, and then we'll all go home. It should take about ten hours."

"Ten hours?"

"More or less."

"Why Aliera?"

"It is her right and her duty."

"Why is that?"

"I assure you, Vlad, you don't need to know details of the internal politics of the House of the Dragon, nor would I be justified in telling you."

"All right. I guess I can skip the services."

"Very well. I'll be in touch."

"I imagine you will."

I walked away so I could perform my slow and clumsy teleport out of the sight of all those Dragonlords.

"Do you think he was telling the truth, Boss?"

"Who?"

"Morrolan."

"About what?"

"About why he brought you along."

"Oh. I imagine so. Why?"

"I think he was telling half the truth."

"All right. What's the other half?"

"He wanted you committed to helping him against Fornia."

I thought that over. "You're probably right," I said at length.

"It worked, didn't it, Boss?"

"Yeah, it worked."

Eventually we reached a large rock that I could step behind to perform the teleport. I never saw the services for Baritt. I hope they went well; I assume Aliera did a good job of whatever she was supposed to do. Actually, now that I think about it, I know why it is that it was Aliera's right and duty, but never mind; you don't need to know details of the internal politics of the House of the Dragon.

"What it comes down to, Loiosh, is that I just don't like the guy."

"Is that any reason to—"

"Of course it is. And if you say I'm taking this personally, I'll trade you in for a mockman and use its tail for a door-tapper."

"Heh."

I walked to the front of my flat, passed the bed, and opened the shutters on the window that looked down into the street. It was late evening, and as I watched the passersby I had the feeling that I was giving up the security of what I knew for a world in which I was ignorant and helpless as a newborn.

"Loiosh, no one's messed with my head, right?"

"I'm afraid not, Boss. This is all you."

"Just checking."

"You may want to visit your grandfather, Boss."

I felt a touch of annoyance, then sat on it. "You're right, chum. I will, before I actually do anything. But—"

"I know, Boss. You're committed."

"I hate being pushed around, that's all."

"But you don't mind being manipulated?"

"You talking about Morrolan?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, I mind. But he didn't have me beaten."

Loiosh fell silent, leaving me to think about it. I watched the people in the streets below me and thought about going out for a drink, then thought better of it. I touched my side, which was still a little sore, but getting better. In a day or two there would be nothing left of the beating I'd gotten except the memory.

"I'm going to take this guy down, Loiosh."

"I know you are, Boss."

I pulled the shutters closed.

6—Assault on Helpless Wood

There are, according to Sethra Lavode, in a brief conversation I got to listen to before I marched off to war, two basic schools of thought in terms of generalship: lead from the front, or lead from the rear. The former is better for morale but can have unfortunate consequences if your officer gets killed. The latter has many advantages in terms of communication and observation, but soldiers don't fight quite so well for a leader who is playing it safe. Sethra says that, really, it depends on circumstances, and a good general ought to be willing to lead either way when appropriate. In the case of our enemies, the officers in charge of brigades—a brigade being about three thousand strong, according to Sethra's intelligence reports—led from the front. The brigade size made sense, she explained, because that was about the largest number of soldiers who could hear the officer shouting orders. The other officers were in back, along with the chief of the sorcerers corps and whatever aides might be appropriate. The brigadier, as a compromise with safety considerations, tended to be surrounded by some elite group of warriors, dedicated to protecting him during the course of the battle. The higher ranking officers received similar protection, but they didn't need it as much—I suppose it was a status symbol the way having a lot of bodyguards is in the Jhereg.

The placing of sorcerers in battle also varies according to tastes of the general and needs of the situation, but, more often than not, sorcerers were attached to a brigade and hung around next to the brigadier. Thus, not only were the sorcerers able to receive orders quickly, but they could do a lot to protect the officer directing that part of the engagement.

Got all that?

I mention it because it flashed through my mind as I went over that hillock, behind the front line my company was engaged with, to seek out the command staff.

In other words, I was going to have to go up against an elite force of warriors as well as some number of sorcerers in order to accomplish my goal.

What was I doing here again? Oh yeah, I lost my temper and talked myself (I can't blame anyone else) into offering Morrolan my services, and he was rude enough to accept, that's what happened. And now—

And now things were moving, which is just what I'd wanted back then when everything came to a standstill. I got what I wanted; isn't that grand?

Still, as I said earlier, I don't enjoy waiting, and, especially after I've made a tough or questionable decision, I want things to be moving, and as usual when I want things to be moving, everything slowed down.