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She had tak­en the form of a rapi­er, which was aw­ful­ly nice, since that’s what I’m used to fight­ing with. She fit in­to my hand like my palm, hilt smooth, and it was like she was weight­less. I knew—some­how—that it was safe to take a step back­ward, and I did, tak­ing my first good look around.

There were sev­er­al hor­ri­fied faces, back­ing away. Brinea, to her cred­it, was see­ing to her peo­ple and try­ing to pull them away and speak­ing rapid­ly. Three of what ap­peared to be Teck­la were fac­ing me: each with a fight­ing knife, one with two of them. They were crouched, alert, and they were star­ing at La­dy Tel­dra. I didn’t blame them.

We stood there, watch­ing each oth­er for half a heart­beat, when a cou­ple of things hap­pened. First, I re­al­ized I didn’t hurt any­more. I al­most looked at La­dy Tel­dra my­self. You’d think some­one would have told me she could do things like that.

The sec­ond thing that hap­pened was some­one called out, “You will put up your weapons in the name of the Em­pire.”

I froze.

“What the—?”

“Two of them, Boss; they’ve pulled gold cloaks out of some­where and are toss­ing off wigs and such.”

“Great. Half the gath­er­ing were as­sas­sins, the oth­er half were Phoenix Guards. Per­fect.”

For a mo­ment, no one moved, then I heard an­oth­er voice, this one I rec­og­nized. “Vlad, put it away.”

I looked over. “No­rathar? Where did you come from?”

“Be­hind that tree over there.”

I want­ed to say that hadn’t been the plan, but she prob­ably wouldn’t have ap­pre­ci­at­ed it. I sheathed La­dy Tel­dra with a flour­ish.

“Now,” she said, “if you gen­tle­men will put yours up as well, let us all go to the Palace and talk this over. The wag­on will be here short­ly.”

There was a pause, but I had no doubts about what would hap­pen. These were Jhereg; they knew that, what­ev­er else, you do not fight with the Phoenix Guards. You can’t win. Af­ter a breath or two, there was a col­lec­tive sigh and cut­lery van­ished all over the place. No­rathar said, “Who is the lead­er here?”

I glanced at the corpse and said, “Uh, I’m afraid—”

“No, not him.”

“I am,” said Brinea, in an im­pres­sive­ly steady voice. She looked at me but didn’t say any­thing. Yeah, I know: I’d told her I was go­ing to just iden­ti­fy him. I’d been ly­ing. I do that some­times.

I stud­ied the Jhereg who were still alive, stand­ing there like id­iots the same way I was. One of them looked fa­mil­iar. I looked at him more close­ly, re­al­ized where I knew him from, and shook my head. He avoid­ed look­ing at me. I’m guess­ing he was dis­gust­ed with him­self be­cause my dis­guise had fooled him. I tried to feel smug about that but it wasn’t in me. I hate it when my plan goes blooey, even if the re­sults come out okay.

Oh, and to com­plete my hu­mil­ia­tion, the fel­low I’d no­ticed ear­li­er, and thought might be an as­sas­sin, was one of the Phoenix Guards.

Sheesh.

No­rathar said, “I’d like ev­ery­one’s name as wit­ness­es. Af­ter that, you are free to go on about your busi­ness. I think the ex­cite­ment is over, and Lord Caltho will be ar­riv­ing short­ly.”

Bri­ana agreed, and about then a cou­ple of coach­es pulled up. The three Jhereg were put in­to one, still with their weapons and un­bound; I got the oth­er. Loiosh and Rocza re­mained out­side, over­head, pro­vid­ing a winged es­cort.

No­rathar climbed in with me, and we start­ed off. I said, “Is there any law against im­per­son­at­ing a Phoenix Guard?”

“Why?”

“One of those Jhereg—the one with the flop­py hat—was one of the ones who beat me up.”

“Oh. He can be fined for that, and maybe dunked.”

“All right.” I sighed. “Got through it, any­way.”

“I sup­pose. But, Vlad, that was pret­ty slop­py. Now what? You’ve been seen killing some­one. I wouldn’t have thought you’d have slipped so far so fast.”

That was un­fair. For one thing, it wasn’t fast by my stan­dards; it had been years. For an­oth­er—

“I’ll point out that I was in dis­guise, and if you’d done what I said—”

“You’d ei­ther be dead, or have three Mor­gan­ti killings to ac­count for. I don’t know how we’ll keep you away from the Star as it is, but with that—”

“It shouldn’t be a prob­lem. He was a Jhereg as­sas­sin.”

No­rathar nod­ded. “Yes, so he was. He turned out to be not on­ly armed, but car­ry­ing a seal of the House with him.”

I nod­ded.

“The on­ly thing is,” said No­rathar, “that as­sas­sins don’t car­ry the House seal when they’re work­ing. I hap­pen to know.”

“This one did.”

“You say that like you knew.”

“I had a pret­ty good idea he would be.”

“How?”

“Be­cause I trust Kiera.”

“She plant­ed—?” She cut her­self off be­fore ask­ing the ques­tion. Drag­on Heir, act­ing War­lord, and ex-​as­sas­sin; had to be tough to be her.

I leaned my head against the hard wall of the coach.

She said, “He had three toughs with him for back­up.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I hadn’t ex­pect­ed that.”

“I had.”

I opened my eyes. “Why?”

“Be­cause they were go­ing to as­sas­si­nate a pub­lic fig­ure in a crowd­ed room. You’re used to—that is, you were used to a dif­fer­ent sort of thing.”

“I did jobs in pub­lic.”

“Dif­fer­ent sort of thing than tak­ing out a guy in the mid­dle of a restau­rant. With a pub­lic fig­ure like that, if you’re go­ing to get out of it alive and uniden­ti­fied, you need peo­ple to cre­ate enough con­fu­sion to get away.”

Great. Now I was get­ting lessons in as­sas­si­na­tion from the War­lord of the Em­pire. “You could have told me,” I said.

She shrugged. “How did you iden­ti­fy him?”

I ex­plained about the knife.

“How do you know the guy you got was the one go­ing to do the work, not one of the back­ups?”

“Why do I care?”

She in­haled deeply, then let her breath out slow­ly and nod­ded.

“Give me a mo­ment,” she said. “I’ll find out what hap­pened with the rest.”

A bit lat­er she said, “Mor­rolan brought the ad­vo­cate in to see the Em­press, pre­sent­ed the pe­ti­tion. The Em­press is now meet­ing with the Jus­ticer and Im­pe­ri­al Ad­vo­cate. Mor­rolan is con­fi­dent the charges will be dis­missed.”

I nod­ded. “And the in­ves­ti­ga­tion?”

“Aliera did noth­ing wrong as War­lord; she has noth­ing to fear from an in­ves­ti­ga­tion.”

“All right.”

“As op­posed to you.”

“Me? I killed an as­sas­sin.”

“You al­so pub­licly bran­dished a Mor­gan­ti weapon. Which I ought to take from you, on­ly I know bet­ter.” She looked dis­gust­ed.

“Oh, right; car­ry­ing a Mor­gan­ti weapon is il­le­gal, isn’t it?”

“Very much il­le­gal.”

“In spite of Aliera, Mor­rolan, Sethra—”

“Yes, in spite of that.”

“Just like use of El­der Sor­cery is il­le­gal, but no one cares un­less—say, I just thought of some­thing. The law against car­ry­ing a Mor­gan­ti weapon, do you hap­pen to know if it is a Cod­ified Tra­di­tion, a Statute, or an Edict?”

She frowned. “I be­lieve it’s an Edict. Why?”

“I have a good ad­vo­cate,” I said.