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“How will you find out?”

“With your per­mis­sion, I’ll at­tend to­day’s meet­ing here, and try to iden­ti­fy the as­sas­sin.”

“What makes you think you can do that?”

“I can some­times spot them,” I said.

“What is it you do?”

“Run from them.”

“I don’t un­der­stand.”

“The Jhereg wants me dead for per­son­al rea­sons. So, most of my life is avoid­ing them. But that’s okay, I’ve been run­ning for so long it feels like walk­ing to me.”

She was qui­et again for a bit, then she said, “What will you do if you iden­ti­fy the as­sas­sin?”

“Tell you who he is, so you can do what­ev­er seems ap­pro­pri­ate.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“I won’t be. I might not be able to spot him, but if I do spot him, I won’t be wrong.”

We turned a cor­ner and she start­ed lead­ing us back to­ward the house. No one had yet tried to kill me. Even­tu­al­ly she said, “All right. I’ll trust you on that part. You may as well re­lax; they’ll be here soon.”

We made it back to the house and closed the door and I felt re­lieved. I found a chair from which I could be watch­ing the door with­out ap­pear­ing to, and I wait­ed.

It was, in­deed, on­ly a few min­utes lat­er that they be­gan to ar­rive. The first to ar­rive ap­peared to be a Teck­la, and sus­pi­cious­ly like one straight out of some­one’s imag­ina­tion of what a peas­ant ought to look like: brown hair, roundish face, leath­ery-​look­ing skin, stur­dy. He greet­ed Brinea, who in­tro­duced me. He gave his name as Nicha, and sat down next to me and be­gan a con­ver­sa­tion about need­ing to watch for trick­ery at the meet­ing with the Em­pire. I grunt­ed agree­ing nois­es and kept watch­ing the door.

Short­ly af­ter, a pair of East­ern­ers came in: Kather­ine was tall for an East­ern­er, dark, and wore glass­es; Liam had the round face of a Teck­la, an odd hair col­or that wasn’t quite blond and wasn’t quite brown, and a nose that looked to have been bro­ken at least once. They car­ried fly­ers in their hands. I didn’t ask to see one be­cause I was afraid it was some­thing I was sup­posed to know about. They were both re­served with me; maybe they thought they should be the on­ly hu­mans there.

In fact, ex­cept for the three of us, ev­ery­one else was a Teck­la. I won’t give you all the names; there were twen­ty-​three of them, not in­clud­ing me or Brinea. Elim­inat­ing the two East­ern­ers, that meant twen­ty-​one who might be as­sas­sins. Nine of them were wom­en, and I al­most dis­missed them, but for one thing, there is the oc­ca­sion­al wom­an work­ing for the Jhereg (as I hap­pen to know bet­ter than most), and for an­oth­er, a Jhereg will­ing to dis­guise him­self as a Teck­la could just as eas­ily dis­guise his sex, right?

So, there were twen­ty-​one who might be my tar­get; and none of them in­stant­ly jumped out at me. I had been think­ing I might take a look at their cal­lus­es, if I could see them; but it seems I’d stum­bled in­to the largest col­lec­tion of non-​la­bor­ing Teck­la ev­er as­sem­bled in one place. Some were mes­sen­gers, some were house-​ser­vants, some did me­nial jobs for mer­chants, but none looked like he ac­tu­al­ly did any work. It was ter­ri­bly dis­il­lu­sion­ing; I won­dered what it meant.

It seemed there were sev­er­al there who didn’t know each oth­er, so my be­ing a stranger turned out not to be that bad. Brinea made in­tro­duc­tions as peo­ple came in, and I watched a lot, spoke lit­tle, learned noth­ing.

“I wish I could see, Boss.”

“You think you can spot an as­sas­sin when I can’t?”

“Yes.”

“Ha.”

The chairs were ar­ranged in most of a cir­cle, three rows deep, on­ly an arc in front of the door­way and in­to the kitchen area left free. One chair, on the oth­er end of the arc, was un­oc­cu­pied, as if by un­spo­ken con­sent. Brinea sat in it and said, “Let’s get start­ed.”

It start­ed, and it went on for a long time. They spoke of pres­sur­ing the Em­pire, which struck me as an ex­er­cise in fu­til­ity, but what do I know? They spoke about guard­ing the in­ter­ests of “the peo­ple,” but weren’t ex­act­ly clear on what that in­volved. Most­ly, it went on for a long time. I took out the clasp knife I’d just bought. No one re­act­ed. Damn. I cleaned my nails with it, and no one seemed to no­tice. Noth­ing. Oh, well. I closed it and set down next to my chair.

Mean­while, they droned on, talk­ing about what Lord Caltho—they were care­ful to call him Lord Caltho—had to be told about and what stan­dards he had to be held to, and about in­sist­ing that all de­tails of the in­ves­ti­ga­tion be made pub­lic. Let me know how that works out for you, I thought but didn’t say.

I was caught be­tween bore­dom and frus­tra­tion. I kept want­ing to flour­ish a dag­ger just to see who re­act­ed; and it might even have worked. But the thing is, it might not have, and then I’d have lost my chance.

It took a while—it took a very very long while—but at last Brinea said, “I think that cov­ers ev­ery­thing. I pro­pose we go there in a body. If we leave now, we’ll be a few min­utes ear­ly, and we can talk to any­one walk­ing by and ex­plain what we’re do­ing, then go in to­geth­er. Does any­one ob­ject?”

No one did, so we all stood up. I watched as close­ly as I could to see if any­one seemed un­usu­al­ly ath­let­ic or, well, slinky when stand­ing, if that makes any sense. And I half thought I no­ticed some­one, too. I stud­ied him as I stood: a guy with long, loopy arms wear­ing loose cloth­ing; and his hair was shag­gy enough to have maybe con­cealed a no­ble’s point. Maybe. The trick was to keep an eye on him, but not be so dis­tract­ed that I missed some­one else. It was hard, but not im­pos­si­ble. You have to trust your pe­riph­er­al vi­sion.

I con­trived to be the last one out the door ex­cept for Brinea and a fel­low I took to be her hus­band. No one else seemed in­ter­est­ed in who was the last one out the door. But I guess if you’d been watch­ing me, I wouldn’t have seemed in­ter­est­ed ei­ther.

We all trooped out to­ward the street to head to­ward the South Adri­lankha Speak­er’s Hall, which is what some­one had once built in­stead of the Speak­er’s House vil­lages have. It wasn’t far away, but at least one of us wasn’t go­ing to make it. They wait­ed for Brinea to take the lead, and, as she shut the door, I said, “I don’t have my pock­etknife.”

“You set it by your chair,” said a short, el­der­ly Teck­la who was about four paces from me.

We as­sas­sins no­tice things like that.

I nod­ded and opened my cloak as I cov­ered the dis­tance. Loiosh and Rocza flew out very quick­ly and sev­er­al peo­ple cried out, but by that time I had the stilet­to in my hand. I got him up un­der the chin. I hit him hard, too—I re­mem­ber feel­ing the hilt con­nect with his chin bone, though I most­ly re­mem­ber how much my ribs hurt when I struck. I left the knife there, and start­ed to step back, about to curl my­self up in­to a ball of pain and try to breathe when—

“Down!”

I hit the ground and rolled and felt some­thing go “whoosh” over my head. Some­one was re­act­ing aw­ful­ly fast for a Teck­la, and my mus­cles cried out to stop it and

“He has back­up, Boss! Three of them!”

Sheesh. Was the whole room full of as­sas­sins? What was he do­ing bring­ing back­up along? I nev­er did that. What sort of crap­py as­sas­sin wants wit­ness­es and needs pro­tec­tion? I’d have giv­en him a piece of my mind if I hadn’t left eight inch­es of steel in his.

I hoped one of them was the guy I’d picked out; that would make me feel bet­ter. There was a lot of scream­ing go­ing on as I con­tin­ued my roll; some of the scream­ing was from my rib. My hand found the hilt of La­dy Tel­dra, and I drew her and came to my feet, know­ing some­how I need­ed to duck to my left, and some­one yelled “Mor­gan­ti,” which was use­less, be­cause once I drew that blade, ev­ery­one with­in a mile who had any psy­chic sen­si­tiv­ity at all must have been aware of it.