“She’s welcome to talk to anyone she wants. I just don’t want any Jhereg telling her to go see the Empress right now.” I stopped and looked at Kragar. “Just to be clear, if they figure out what you’ve done, and I don’t see how to prevent that, you might become a target.”
Kragar yawned. I shrugged. Then I winced.
“Still in pain?” said Kiera.
“Some.”
“Is it going to—”
“I hope not. Morrolan, it’s clear enough?”
He nodded. “I go to the advocate’s office. What’s his name?”
“Perisil.”
“Right. I wait there for, uh, three more hours and a bit, then, if I haven’t heard from you, I take him in to see the Empress. Sounds easy.”
“I hope so. Warlord?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry, Highness.”
She stared at me. I really, really should learn not to bait Dragonlords. It’s a bad habit, and one of these days it could get me into trouble. But it’s so much fun. I cleared my throat and said, “You know where to be, and when?”
“Yes. I’m to make sure no one tries to prevent Morrolan and the advocate from reaching Her Majesty.”
I nodded.
“That’s it, then,” I said. I checked the time. I could make it if I hurried.
“Good luck, Vlad,” said Morrolan. Kiera just smiled her smile. Daymar was lost in thought. Norathar shrugged. They all got up, one at a time, and filed out. When I was alone, I pulled the dagger from my boot and studied it and tested it. It was a stiletto, my favorite weapon for making someone become dead. My favorite target, when possible, is the left eye, because it is back there that Dragaerans keep the part of their brains that permits psychic activity. Not that I’m necessarily trying to cut off psychic activity, but if you take it out, they go into shock instantly. That takes a weapon with reasonable length, and a good point. This one had that, though the edge wasn’t anything to brag about.
But I had no time to sharpen it just now. I replaced it in my boot, tested the draw, didn’t like it, and ended up arranging a quick rig against my stomach on the left side, hidden by my cloak. I tested it, and it worked, and it didn’t hurt much more than a whole lot. Fair enough.
I set out for the Stone Bridge, cutting around the Palace district, Loiosh and Rocza keeping an eye on the foot traffic to make sure no one was interested in my movements.
I was a bit distracted: For one thing, it hurt to move. For another, the trickiest part of the whole matter was just coming up. I thought about asking Cawti to help, but I had the impression a recommendation from her might not go over well with these people. I thought up several possible stories and rejected them.
I still hadn’t made up my mind when I got near the cottage.
“Check.”
“On it, Boss.” And, “Different guy, same spot.”
“All right.”
I stood behind an oak that would have taken three of me to wrap my arms around, and I rubbed a bit of stuff onto my skin, glued on the beard, and set the wig in place.
“What do we do?”
“Your choice: cloak, or outside.”
“Neither?”
“Loiosh.”
“Cloak, I guess.”
“Get in, then.”
They did. I approached the cottage and remembered to pound on the door with my fist, instead of clapping. That hurt, too.
The door opened, and a middle-aged woman, Easterner, opened the door. I couldn’t guess from looking which part of the East she drew her ancestry; she had a large mouth, and wide-set eyes that were almost perfectly round, like a cat’s. The look in the eyes, at the moment, was suspicious. “Yes?” she said.
“I’m called Savn,” I said, pulling the name more or less out of the air. “I’d like a few minutes of conversation with you before the gathering here, if you don’t mind.”
“How do you know about the gathering here?”
“That’s the voice, Boss. The one doing most of the talking.”
“All right.”
“I’m hearing double, Boss. Can I—?”
“All right.”
There came the psychic equivalent of a relieved sigh.
I said, “Many people know about the gathering here, and the one later with Lord Caltho.”
“Everyone knows about that one.”
“Yes, including some people you would probably rather didn’t.”
“The Empire?”
“Worse.”
She studied me for a moment, then said, “Come in.”
It was bigger than it had seemed from outside: one big room, with a stove in one corner, and a loft overhead that I’m sure contained the sleeping quarters. There were a lot of plain wooden chairs set out—at least twenty of them. I suspected the chairs accounted for most of the expense of the place.
She pointed me to one. I sat; she remained standing. Heh. Okay, so that’s how it was going to be.
“Boss, should you be talking out loud? Here? If I could listen—”
“Um. Damn. Good point.”
“Mind if we take a walk?” I said. She looked even more suspicious. I said, “The Empire may be hearing everything we say here, and, worse, someone else might be, too.”
She frowned, hesitated, then nodded abruptly. I stood up, we walked out the door and down the street. When we were a good distance away, I started talking, but she interrupted before I had a word out.
“Who are you?” she said.
“I gave you my name. What’s yours?”
“Brinea. Now who are you?”
“I’m what you’d call an independent factor. I’m not with the Empire—” she looked like she didn’t believe that “—or with anyone else. I have a friend who’s caught in the middle of it, which means I’m temporarily on your side.”
“My side is—”
“Spare me,” I said. “I have information you’ll want to know, and no interest whatever in politics, whether Imperial or anti-Imperial.”
She pressed her lips together and said, “What information is that?”
“Is today’s meeting, here, to plan for the meeting with Caltho?”
“That’s a question, not information.”
“All right. If it is, there is liable to be a disguised Jhereg assassin here, who is planning to kill Caltho and blame it on you.”
I suddenly had her attention. “Talk,” she said.
We turned a corner; with Loiosh and Rocza still in the cloak, I felt exposed, but I tried to stay alert. I only saw a few Easterners.
“The Jhereg,” I told her, “is working on a complicated scheme, along with the Orca and the—and another organization. To pull it off, they need to pressure the Empress. To pressure the Empress, they’re using the massacre in Tirma. If a legitimate investigation—”
“It won’t be a legitimate investigation,” she said. “They’ll just throw a black tarp over it and say it’s fine.”
“No, they’ll do a real investigation. Not because they care, but because the Empress is trying to get out of a jam, and that’s the only way to do it.”
“Maybe,” she said.
“The Jhereg needs to stop the investigation. To do that, they’re going to make it look like your group killed Assistant Investigator Caltho. Much outrage against you, probably a lot of arrests, and the investigation gets put on hold. That’s how they’re going to work it.”
She was quiet for ten or twelve paces, then she said, “Maybe.”
“I agree with the maybe. I think I’m right, but I could be wrong.”