“I don’t hate you, Vlad.”
“Good. Does that mean I should go ahead?”
Tukko came in then, and asked if we wanted anything. We both said, “Klava,” and Cawti said, “Extra cream in his, but not much honey. You know how I take mine.”
Tukko grunted as if to say either he knew how we both took ours, or that we’d take them as he made them and be happy.
“I hate it that I need your help,” she said.
“You said that already. I understand.”
I got up and paced, because I think better that way. She said, “What is it, worried, or unhappy?”
“Because I’m pacing?”
“Because your shoulders are hunched forward, and you’re slouching. That means worried or miserable.”
“Oh.” I sat down again. But she could probably tell things about how I sat, too. “Both, I guess. Worried about whether you’ll let me help you, unhappy that you don’t want me to.”
“I don’t suppose I could convince you to charge me for the service?”
I started to laugh, then stopped. “Actually, yes. There is a fee I could suggest.”
She gave me the look someone gives you who knows you very well, and she waited.
“A piece of information,” I said.
“And that is?”
“Tell me what that look meant.”
“What look?”
“When I mentioned South Adrilankha.”
She frowned. “I can’t imagine what look I could have given you.”
“It looked like relief.”
“Relief?”
“Yes. Like you were afraid I was going to mention something else.”
“Oh,” she said.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Tukko returned with our klava. Once, long ago, I had asked Sethra how old he was, and she’d said, “Younger than me.”
He set the klava down and turned away. I said, “Tell me, Tukko, how old is Sethra, exactly?”
“Younger than me,” he said, and shuffled out again. I should have predicted that.
Cawti drank some of her klava.
“Do you wish payment in advance?” she said at last.
“It doesn’t matter.”
She bit her lip. “What if I say it’s too much?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll do it anyway.”
She nodded. “Yes, I expected that’s what you’d say.” Loiosh rubbed his head against my neck.
Three sips (for her) later, she said, “All right. Go ahead.”
Suddenly, I had something to do. Maybe, if I were lucky, I’d have someone to kill. I felt better right away.
“Let’s start with names,” I said.
“Name,” said Cawti. “I only have one.”
“Madam Triesco.”
She stared at me. “Aliera didn’t know that.”
“I said the information came from her indirectly. My source—”
“Who?”
“Does it matter?”
She continued staring at me in that way she had—not squinting, but with her eyelids just a little lowered. I knew that look. “Okay,” I said. “It matters. But I’d prefer not to say just now.”
“Was it your friend Kiera?”
“As I said, I’d just as soon not say.”
After a moment, she gave me a terse nod. “Okay,” she said. “Yes. Triesco.”
“What do you know of her?”
“The name,” said Cawti.
“Do you know she’s Left Hand?”
She shrugged. “I assumed, just because it’s a she.”
“Okay. Where, exactly, do operations stand in South Adrilankha?”
She winced. “Out of control,” she said.
“You have people?”
“No, I let them go. I tried to shut it down, and—”
“Yeah, I heard. Any of them you can get back aboard?”
“None that I’m willing to.”
I knew that tone; I didn’t even consider arguing. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll do a little checking around.”
“If you were to get yourself hurt doing this, I would hate it a lot.”
“So would I.”
“Don’t joke about it.”
“You know, that’s a much more difficult request than merely taking on the Left Hand of the Jhereg.”
A corner of her mouth twitched a bit.
“One small victory, Loiosh.”
“If you say so, Boss.”
She said, “I’ve been hearing stories.”
“Of?”
“You. Jenoine. Lady Teldra.”
Almost involuntarily, my hand brushed across the hilt of the long, slim dagger at my side. Yes, she was still there. “They’re probably true,” I said. “More or less.”
“Is Lady Teldra dead?”
“Not exactly.”
She frowned.
“You were involved in a battle with Jenoine?”
“More of a scrap than a battle,” I said. “But yeah, I guess that part is true.”
“How did it happen?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing. A series of accidents, I suppose.”
She drank some more klava, and gave me her slow, contemplative look. “I’m not sure what to talk to you about anymore.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It shouldn’t be that difficult. Say something about oppressed Easterners to put me on the defensive. That should work.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say anything.
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe I should just be about this business. That will give you time to think up a subject of conversation.” She didn’t say anything.
I stood up. Even now, hours later and after a nap, it was some-thing of an effort. I hoped no one attacked me; I’d be slow.
“You’re always—”
“Shut up, Loiosh.”
“Okay, Cawti. I’ll be in touch.”
“Do,” she said.
I left the room without ceremony, or a backward glance, mostly because I didn’t trust myself to say anything. After a bit of searching, I found Tukko. “Would you be good enough to ask Sethra if she’ll do a teleport for me?”
He didn’t quite scowl.
I have a small backpack I travel with, which contains a spare shirt, some socks, undergarments, and a couple of different cloaks that I switch between depending on the weather and other factors. I unrolled the gray one, and filled it with a few weapons that Morrolan had dug up for me the day before. I put it on, made sure it was hanging right, and took a deep breath.
Sethra came in and nodded to me. I took the amulet off and put it away.
“Good luck,” she said.
I nodded.
An instant later I was standing at the east end of the Chain Bridge, in South Adrilankha. 2. Garlic Bread
Mihi told me what Mr. Valabar had prepared that evening. Of course, that evening was early afternoon, but let’s not worry about trifles. It was house pepper stew, brisket of beef, Ash Mountain potatoes, roast kethna stuffed with Fenarian sausages, anise-jelled winneasourus steak, and triple onion beef. Then he stepped back a bit and waited. I had always been puzzled by this behavior, until I realized that he was giving us time to think about it, while being available to answer questions.
“What do you recommend?”Telnan asked me.
“Anything. It’s all good.”
I ate some of the garlic bread.
“Langosh” isn’t like anything else in the world. My grandfather makes it too. Loyalty demands I say my grandfather makes it better, but we won’t stress the point.
It consists of a small, round loaf of slightly, very slightly, sweet bread that has been deep-fried. It’s served with a clove of garlic. You bite the garlic in half, then coat the bread with it, burning your fingers just a little. Then you take a bite of the garlic, then you wait, and, as it’s exploding in your mouth, you take a bite of the bread. It’s all in the timing.
I decided on the brisket of beef, Telnan ordered the roast. We told Mihi, who smiled as if we were the cleverest two customers he’d ever had. Telnan studied my technique with the bread, copied it, and broke out in a delighted grin.