Sethra’s servant, whose name was Tukko, showed up, glanced at me with an expression that fell somewhere between disdain and disinterest, and said, “Would you like something, Lord ‘altos?”
“No,” I said. In the first place, I had the feeling that I would neither eat nor move again as long as I lived. And in the second, I wanted nothing to interfere with what was still lingering on my tongue. “But can you tell me if Sethra is about?”
He grunted. “She’ll be along presently.”
Tukko shuffled off, fingers twitching, without giving any sign that he cared either way. He was slightly bent as he walked, and there was a twitch in his right shoulder as well as his fingers. Every once in a while I wondered if it was all an act; if the old bastard was actually in perfect health. I’d never seen any indications of it, but I wondered from time to time. I closed my eyes and spent a while in happy reverie, recalling all of what Valabar’s had just done for me.
I heard Sethra’s footsteps, but didn’t open my eyes. I knew what she looked like well enough that the only question would be the expression on her face, and if I guessed somewhere between sardonic amusement and mild surprise I’d probably have that down, too.
“Hello, Vlad. I hadn’t expected to see you back so soon.”
“I hope it isn’t a problem,” I said.
“Not in the least. How was Valabar’s?”
“You can’t improve upon perfection.”
“And you made good decisions?”
“Easy decisions, all of them.”
“I take it you decided to honor me with your presence while you recuperated?”
“Not exactly.” I hesitated, not sure quite what I wanted to say.
I opened my eyes. Sethra was in front of me, looking like Sethra. I was right about the expression, too. “You sent me protection.”
“Yes. I hope you aren’t offended.”
“You know me better than that.”
She nodded. “I trust he was a good dinner companion.”
“An interesting one, certainly.”
“Oh?”
“Dzurlords are more complex than I’d thought they were.”
“Vlad, everyone—”
“Yeah, I know. But still.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Many things. The food, for one. But also ... Sethra, you know Dzurlords.”
“I would say so, yes.”
“What I didn’t get is, I don’t know, how much work goes into it all.”
“Yes. Don’t feel bad, though. That confuses almost everyone who isn’t a Dzur. They think the Dzurlord only wishes for the excitement, or for the chance of a glorious death against impossible odds. As you say, it’s more complex.”
“Can you unravel the complexities?”
“Why the interest?”
“I don’t know. Your friend, or rather, student, Telnan—he interested me.”
She pulled one of her inscrutable Sethra smiles out of her pocket and put it on.
“So,” I said, “if it isn’t the excitement, or a chance for a glorious death, what is it?”
“Depends on the person. Some enjoy the righteous feeling of being in a small minority.”
“Yeah. Those are the ones I want to smack.”
“And some just want to do the right thing.”
“Lots of people want to do the right thing, Sethra. I try not to let them bother me too much.”
“Dzurlords won’t bother with the right thing unless everyone else is against it.”
“Hmmm. I’m surprised I didn’t see one or two defending the Easterners during the excitement a few years ago.”
“In fact, it wouldn’t have been impossible. What’s so funny?”
“The idea of the Dzur hero defending the Teckla. The Empire would have hated it, the Guards would have hated it, the House of the Dzur would have hated it, and the Teckla would have hated it.”
“Yes,” said Sethra. “That’s why it could have happened.”
I mulled that over, then, “So,” I said, “how is everyone else handling the aftermath of the excitement?”
“Who in particular?”
“Morrolan.”
“Living, breathing, and returned to Castle Black.”
“How did he take the news?”
“About Lady Teldra? Not well, Vlad.”
I nodded and touched my fingers to the hilt again. And again I felt something—a presence that was at once comforting and distant.
“And Aliera?”
“She left with Morrolan.”
I cleared my throat. “And the Empress?”
Sethra frowned. “What of her?”
“I was just wondering if she wanted to give me an Imperial dukedom for my heroic—”
“None of this is what you returned here for, Vlad.”
“Yeah.” Eventually I managed, “Something has come up.”
“Oh? Tell me.”
“I’m not certain I can.”
She nodded. “The Northwestern tongue—that is, what we are at present speaking—is a head-last uninflected language, not perfectly capable of expressing all the nuances of emotion and familial connection that, for example, Seriolaa is; yet it can express fine distinctions in its own right, and, with time, a skilled speaker can usually convey the sense of his intention.”
It took me a moment to realize that she was turning my bait; I suppose the meal had slowed my thinking some. Eventually, I said, “It’s a Jhereg matter, and a personal matter.”
Living as long as she had, she had somewhere learned the value of silence. I thought I had, too, but she was better at it than I was.
At last I said, “Cawti. South Adrilankha.”
“Ah,” she said. “Yes. I think, with what my sources in the Jhereg tell me, I can start to put it together.”
I didn’t make any remarks about what her “sources in the Jhereg” might be. She said, “How did you hear of it?”
“Mario,” I said.
She gave me an eyebrow. “I see.”
Of course, she must have made the same connection I did: Mario to Aliera to Norathar to Cawti; but she saw no reason to mention it. “What are you going to do?”
“I’d ask for your advice, except I don’t think you’d give me any, and I’m probably too stubborn to take it even if you did.”
“Correct on both counts. Have you been in touch with any of your people?”
“Sethra, you are my people now. You, and Morrolan, and Aliera. And Kiera, of course.”
Sethra Lavode looked vaguely uncomfortable for a moment. This doesn’t happen every day. “You must have some contacts in the Jhereg who are still willing to talk to you.”
“The ones I could trust are the ones I wouldn’t do that to.”
“Do what to?”
“Put in an awkward position by asking them to help me.”
“Even with information?”
I grunted. “I’ll think about it. Where did you find the Dzur?”
“Telnan? Iceflame found him.”
“Oh.”
“Or, rather, Iceflame found his weapon.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to tell you.”
“What if I torture it out of you?”
“That isn’t as funny as you think it is.”
“But you are resurrecting the Lavodes, it seems?”
“Slowly, yes. Why? Think they might be useful for your problem?”
I gave her a short laugh. Loiosh was strangely silent; I guess he knew what was going on better than I did. So did Sethra. Chances are, so did the owner of the pawnshop on Taarna Road. “So, how are you, Sethra?”
She said, “Vlad, I’ve been alive for a long, long time, however you choose to measure time.”
“Well, yes.”
“I have learned patience.”
“I imagine so.”
“I can sit here as long as necessary, but don’t you want to get around to asking about whatever it is that’s on your mind?” I sighed and nodded.