“Yeah, I know a place.”
“Whenever you’re ready, then.”
“Okay. When I finish this klava. Either drinking it, or spilling it.”
“Have you thought about getting back here?”
“I don’t believe I can do that safely anymore. I plan to remain in town until this is settled.”
“Is that safe?”
“I think I can manage to make it safe. I hope so.”
“Ah. You have a plan.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“All right.”
I drank my klava. Sethra was silent while in my mind I went through every step of the few minutes I’d have available to me once I arrived. Then I went through it again, reconstructing the look of the doorways I’d have to cross. I had killed people with less planning than this. It was late morning, not a terribly busy time in South Adrilankha. That should work to my advantage.
Tukko hadn’t stirred the klava thoroughly; some honey had accumulated at the bottom of the cup. I set the cup down and stood up. I took a couple of knives out of my cloak, putting one of them in my boot-top; the other I set on a table. I took my purse out and tied it to my belt. I ran my hands over the cloak to make sure I hadn’t left anything in it, then bundled it up and set it next to the knife.
“Okay,” I told Sethra. “I’m ready.”
She nodded and drew Iceflame. I almost flinched, out of reflex, because being in the presence of a naked weapon like that does things to one’s mind. And, indeed, it did things; but this time it was a different sort of thing than it had been before. In the past, it had been a naked threat, the feeling of being in the presence of some hostile and unbelievably powerful force, as if a dragon were charging me, with me unarmed and with nowhere to run.
But now I felt something different. No less powerful, the threat was still there, but now it wasn’t directed at me. I knew it, felt it, but it was like a guard dog in the home of a friend you’ve known for years; you give him a sniff of your hand, then you stop worrying about it.
More than that, though, there were overtones, subtleties of flavor. I could feel, albeit from a distance, Iceflame’s connection to Sethra, to Dzur Mountain. It was, well, it was all very confusing for a simple Eastern kid.
I got so involved in trying to sort out these strange sensations, that I pretty much missed what Sethra was doing, which I believed involved making twitching motions with her fingers and muttering under her breath. Then I was suddenly very much aware that Iceflame had gotten involved in the proceedings, and the next thing I knew Sethra was saying, “Here we go, Vlad.”
“All right.”
“Vlad, that means you need to remove the amulet.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Now, concentrate on the place you want to end up. As clear a vision as possible, and any other sensory impressions you have of it—smells, sounds, anything. With the interference I’m generating, I need it especially clear to make sure you don’t end up a thousand feet under the ocean, or somewhere else you’d prefer not to be.”
Very convincing, is my friend Sethra.
I slipped the amulet over my head, paused briefly to make sure the plan was still in my head, muttered a thank-you to Sethra, and put the thing into its spell-proof receptacle. Then my vision blurred. At least, I thought my vision was blurring, but after a moment, it became apparent that it wasn’t my eyes, but rather something was happening to the light in the room. At the same time, I became aware that I was hearing odd noises, like a low-pitched “thrumb” accompanied by some very faint squeals.
I stood outdoors in a small market area in South Adrilankha. I stumbled a bit but recovered quickly. I think a couple of people—humans—glanced at me as I appeared, but I couldn’t see well enough to be certain.
“Directly behind, Boss.”
“Okay.”
I put the Phoenix Stone amulet back around my neck, waited until I felt it pulsing, then turned around and began walking quickly. Loiosh guided me; either he was unaffected by Sethra’s spell, or he was able to use other means.
“I just have better eyesight than you.”
“Shut up.”
I had almost reached my destination when my vision abruptly cleared, and the sounds disappeared from my ears; whatever Sethra had done had worn off.
I pushed past the curtain of a doorway to my left, took a quick look around, and grabbed a long brown coat with big pockets. I also picked up a beret. I tossed the shopkeeper a coin, told him to keep it, and left. It took about a minute. The next shop was about ninety feet away and supplied me with a white shirt and some baggy pale green breeks. The public house next to it had a private outhouse that stank horribly but was big enough for me to change clothes. I transfered a few things into the coat, then changed. My shirt went to where I’d never want to retrieve it again. The spare knife went from my boot-top to a pocket of the coat. My purse went into the inner pocket.
“No one’s around, Boss. I think it worked.”
I pulled the beret down so it almost covered my eyes, and stepped out, taking a grateful breath of the rank-but-less-rank air of South Adrilankha.
Vlad Taltos: Master of Disguise.
“Okay, Loiosh. You and Rocza need to keep overhead. Or at least not with me. You’re too recognizable.”
“Check, Boss. We’ll be around.”
They flew off as I stepped back onto the street.
I was able to relax a bit now, so I strolled over toward Six Corners, stopping just across a narrow street from a place I knew well. It had changed: the little porch with rugs on the floor and partly surrounded by curtains was gone, and there was a new door into the shack. It had also received a new coat of paint. There was nothing, really, to say who now lived there.
I didn’t doubt that if I were to make my way inside, or even over to where the porch had been, I’d feel psychic traces of my grandfather; he’d lived there many years before I managed to convince him to relocate to lands I’d never seen. I wondered if he missed being surrounded by his own kind, or if he was enjoying playing the part of lord of the manor. That’s the tricky part of doing a kindness for someone; you can’t always be sure it really is a kindness.
“Boss, what, exactly, are we doing here?”
“Feeling maudlin.”
“Oh. Good. How long are we planning on doing that?”
“Don’t you ever miss the days when you used to be nostalgic?”
“What?”
“Never mind!”
I turned away, feeling pleased that I had finally gotten one past Loiosh. I headed toward Six Corners, then skirted it to the north on a small street with no name. In a few hundred feet, I came to a two-story wood house with a small sign hanging over it. I squinted at the sign. Yeah, something had once been painted on it, and I suppose it could as easily have been a horn as anything else. I went in. I’d have blended in effortlessly with the customers, except that there weren’t any customers.
The host was a dumpy fellow sitting behind a sort of counter, his head down, and a large lower lip protruding as he snored. I cleared my throat. He sputtered, opened his eyes, wiped some saliva from the corner of his lip, and said, “Yes?”
“My name is Sandor. You have a room for me for a night or so?”
“We don’t usually rent them by the night.”
“I said, my name is Sandor.”
“Eh? Oh. Yes. That’s right.” He considered. “No playing of instruments after dark.”
“Of course.”
“Three and three per night.”
I gave him enough for a couple of nights, and suggested he let me know when he needed more. He grunted an agreement and closed his eyes again. I cleared my throat, and he opened them.