Dragon

As I say, I didn't follow the analogy, but now, looking back on it, when I can, if I want, see everything I did in military terms, I suppose you could say that it was somewhere in there that I began to take stock of my own forces, as if this were a campaign I had decided to enter on. The fact is, it wasn't until a day or two later that I became committed to it, but even as I sat there in my office contemplating what Kragar had told me and preparing another visit to Castle Black, I was, even if I didn't know it, embarking on a campaign, and somewhere in the back of my head I was assessing the forces I had to work with and preparing myself for what was to come.

I just didn't think I was going to give my report to Morrolan and be finished with it, even though I couldn't have told you why I had that feeling.

But my campaign had no goal, at least at that point, which made the preparation a bit tricky. And it was all unconscious, which made it trickier. And the fact is, I still think I'd have been done with the whole thing if Fornia hadn't … but no, we'll leave that to its proper place.

This time I had one of my own sorcerers do the teleport: a guy named Temek who had been with me all along. He was competent as a sorcerer, though his main skill was, let's say, elsewhere. He did a good enough job.

When I reached Castle Black, I made a point of noting landmarks—most of them way below me—in case I had to teleport myself there one of these days. I achieved only limited success, but I'm never excited about performing a teleport; I'm not that good at it. The stream was very thin below me, and details were hard to pick out, but there was certainly some sort of footbridge over it, partially hidden by a pair of trees at one end. The trees themselves, and those nearby, seemed from above to be oddly shaped; perhaps shiptrees bred millennia earlier for designs no longer used. Then again, perhaps my eyes and the altitude were conspiring to trick me.

When I felt ready, I moved toward the doors of Castle Black; I even managed a jaunty salute toward a pair of guards who watched me from the wall. They didn't appear to notice. Again the doors swung open and again Lady Teldra greeted me. She was tall and lithe and managed to achieve beauty without sexuality—that is, I enjoyed looking at her but felt no desire. This is unusual for me, and I wondered if it was a calculated effect.

"The Lord Morrolan," she said, "will join you in the library directly. Would you care for refreshment?"

"Please."

She escorted me up the long winding stairway to the library, left me for a moment, and returned with a glass of a red wine that had too much tannin for my taste and was too warm, but which was good anyway. I'd been in that library on several occasions; this time, while I waited, I looked at some of his books. Most of them seemed, predictably, to be either history or sorcery. There were some books about the East that aroused my interest, in particular one called Customs and Superstitions in the Eastern Mountains, and another called The Wars for Independence in the Mountain States, both published in the East, and both written by someone called Fekete Sziiszf, which I knew to be a Fenarian name. I wasn't sure what I thought about Morrolan having such books.

Loiosh informed me of his approach just before he said, "You may borrow them, if you wish," so I could avoid letting him startle me.

"I'd like that very much."

"I should warn you, however, that I have several volumes devoted to curses for people who don't return books."

"I'd like to borrow those, too."

"What brings you here?"

"I have the name you're after."

"Ah. So soon?"

"If you're going to employ Easterners, you'll have to adjust to things happening quickly."

"Boss, do you think he really has books full of curses for people who—"

"It wouldn't surprise me a bit, Loiosh."

"All right, then," said Morrolan. "Who is it?"

I gave him the name and watched his face. I might as well have been watching his rows of books.

"Very well," he said.

"Is that all?"

"No."

"Well, Boss, did you think—"

"Shut up."

"What else, then?"

"The weapon must be retrieved."

"Yeah. I know some thieves. If you want it stolen back I'll give you a name or two."

"They wouldn't work for me. Besides—"

"I know. Dragonlords don't steal. And that isn't what you want anyway."

Morrolan nodded, but his thoughts seemed elsewhere. "More important, however, is that the Count of Fornia be taught a lesson."

"A lesson? I hope you aren't going to ask me to kill him, because—"

Morrolan's nostrils flared and he started in on a glare which died on the vine. "You are jesting, I presume. Please do not make such jests in the future."

I shrugged. I hadn't been, but there was no reason to tell him that. I was relieved he wasn't going to ask me to put a shine on a Dragonlord anyway.

"No, I think I must go to war with him."

I looked at Morrolan and blinked. "Well, of course. Certainly. That's obvious. What else can one do? But how does that concern me?"

"It doesn't, directly."

"Well, that's a relief, anyway."

"Too bad, Boss. I was hoping for a commission."

"Shut up, Loiosh."

"Lieutenant Loiosh … has a nice sound, don't you think?"

"Shut up, Loiosh."

"Attention, First Jhereg Lancers, forward at a march—"

"Shut the fuck up, Loiosh."

"Yes sir, Colonel. Aye aye. Shutting up, sir."

"I don't suppose you have any experience in military reconnaissance?"

"I assure you, in the small fishing village I come from it forms the sole topic of conversation."

"I hadn't thought so. Still, you may prove useful. In the meantime, I appreciate what you've done. I'll have payment sent over by messenger."

"Payment is always appreciated. But I'm not entirely happy with the 'you may prove useful' business. I don't suppose you could tell me what you have in mind?"

"If it were a Jhereg matter, would you tell me?"

"Of course. Openness and Honesty is my credo."

He twitched me a smile.

I said, "Just out of curiosity, how does this work? Are you going to declare war on him, or what?"

"A formal declaration of war isn't called for in an action of this type. I'll just send him a message demanding the return of the sword, or accusing him of stealing it, and that will accomplish the same thing. But there are preparations to be made first."

"Like gathering an army?"

"Yes, and planning a campaign, and, above all, hiring a general."

"Hiring a general?" That time I was actually startled. "You're not going to lead the army yourself?"

"Would you assassinate someone yourself if you could get Mario to do it?"

Actually, I probably would, but—"I see your point. And who is this military genius who is the moral equivalent of Mario? Wait, no, don't tell me. Sethra Lavode."

"Good guess."

"I've always been bright for my age." Then, "Wait a minute. How do you know about Mario?"

He looked smug again. I must stop giving him occasion to look smug.

I said, "You think Sethra will do it?"

"I know she will."

"Because she's a friend?"

"For that, yes, and other reasons."

"Hmmmph."

"Boss, there's a lot going on here that we don't know about."

"You think so? Really? Next you'll tell me that a Dzur in the wild can be dangerous."

"How 'bout if you do the killing and I do the irony?"

That, in any case, concluded the interview with Morrolan. I picked up the books I was borrowing and made my way down the stairs toward the front doors, where a sorcerer was prepared to make me sick again. I stopped at the landing and studied the painting there up close. It was ideally viewed from the floor below or above, but up close I could see the texturing that went into the detail work, and, though it strained my neck, I could study the head of the wounded Dragon. Even in a painting, there was something powerful and intriguing about the way those tentacle-like appendages around its neck seemed to wave and flutter—apparently at random, yet there was purpose in it. And the expression on the Dragon's face spoke of necessity, but of a certain joy as well. The wound in its side, which was closest to me, was skillfully rendered to evoke pity but not disgust, and even in the young Dragon there was a certain hint that, though requiring protection, it was still a Dragon and thus not to be trifled with either.