Oddly, I don't remember anything about the smell of the town during the long, long trek; which may indicate something or other. I went to the door and walked through it; the host gave me a sort of look, but I wasn't quite aware of it until I was past him and climbing the long, long, long flight of stairs up to my room, where I collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The bed felt wonderful, and the ceiling looked remarkably interesting, with all sorts of odd texturing that I could almost see moving if I squinted just a bit.
I wasn't in need of sleep. I was just mentally and physically exhausted. There's a difference, you know. Considering that difference is the last thing I remember for an hour or two.
Naps don't usually do much for me; the few times I've tried napping—when I was with Cawti, who felt about them the way a cat does—they always left me feeling groggy. But that one seemed to do the trick. At any rate, the world wasn't fuzzy anymore when I woke up, and I felt like I could move a bit.
I went back down to the jug-room. Inchay explained that he didn't keep coffee this late in the day. I explained that I wished to drink coffee. Presently coffee appeared.
Inchay had his back to me, and the thought came out of nowhere: What an idiot. He shouldn't have his back to an enemy.
I pondered that for a little while. You know a thought like that comes from somewhere, but that doesn't mean it's reliable. Yes, it could be my subconscious telling me it had noticed something about that guy. It could just as easily be my paranoia at work, combined with some of the nasty looks and remarks he'd given me, starting with his absurd idea, when I'd first walked in, that I take Loiosh and Rocza out.
I mean, I knew I didn't like him much; but that wasn't sufficient to convince me he was working against me. To the left, though, I certainly wasn't about to turn my back on him.
When you get a tip like that from your subconscious, there's as much danger in paying it too much heed as too little. You can't ignore it, but you can't let it distract you, either.
When he turned around, naturally, I was no longer looking at him.
Okay, we have a Guild of merchants, unlike any guild Noish-pa told me could exist. No, Noish-pa isn't infallible, but it's enough to make me think there is something very odd going on here.
Then you've got Count Saekeresh Veodric: landowner, and paper factory owner. In the Empire, to have an aristocrat owning a factory wasn't worth a raised eyebrow, but from everything I understood, it was unusual in the East. For one thing, I guess, there were very few factories of any kind, so perhaps I was putting too much weight on that. Still, what was between him and the Guild? Cooperation? Competition? Hostility mitigated by a truce, armed or unarmed? There had to be something.
And then, that strange matter of "light" and "dark" witchcraft. That just made no sense at all. If there was anything to it, I needed to know what; and if there wasn't, I needed to know why it was commonly believed that there was.
How did good old Inchay here fit in, if at all? And Orbahn. He had some part, in this too; I was sure of it.
And then, there was the Jhereg; probably not involved in this, but never, ever to be forgotten; I did not want my last sight to be the point of a Morganti dagger. I shuddered.
Someone had brutally killed my mother's family, and at least one of those parties was responsible, or knew who was responsible.
Well, okay, those were the questions I knew about now; efforts to answer them would naturally generate others, but at least I had a place to start.
I sat there and drank my coffee and made plans.
Ha.
You have to understand, looking back on things, that's pretty funny. But it's true; I made plans, just as if I were going to carry them out, just as if no one else could be making plans at the same time. Do you even care what they were? Could it possibly matter, all the things I would have done if...
If, if, if.
If the world was what I wanted it to be, instead of what it is.
Pointless. If the world was what I wanted it to be, I'd still be married. I'd never have gotten involved with the Jhereg in the first place, because I'd never have had the need or the desire to. Instead, I'd be...what? Count Szurke, safe in my manor near the lake, fishing and having hunting parties, with Cawti on my arm discussing the latest fashions from B'nari Street? No, I couldn't see that either; and, as I said, it's pointless.
When you've been paid to kill a man, you have to learn everything you can about him; there's not a lot of value in learning about what he might be, or you wish he were. Do that, and all you'll get is Fiscom's Honor, which, if you haven't heard the term before, means having your name added to the list cut into the tall, wide marble blocks around the Executioner's Star.
You look at what is, and if you don't know what is, you make it your business to find out. And sometimes that, too, turns out to be just another offering on the altar of the futility deities—the ones who make the crops fail.
So, yeah, I sat there and drank coffee and made plans. Just as if. Loiosh was still tense; I could feel him watching the door, and Rocza kept shifting and bouncing on my left shoulder.
But I didn't let it bother me; I was working. Turning my anger into decision, decision into intention, intention into plan. I was going to learn who was behind this by going in a neat, orderly way; I had it figured out how to get the information from those who must have it, so I could decide just exactly who was deserving of what I intended to do.
An hour or two must have gone by while I went over it in my mind—or, actually, sub vocalized it to Loiosh, who ignored it; just because I think better when I'm talking. Finally I said, "Okay, I've got it."
"Whatever you say."
"Our friend Inchay first, because I don't expect to get anything from him."
"I like your expectations, Boss. Stay with that, and you won't be dis—"
"Orbahn next, if he can be found."
"Which you don't expect."
"Probably not.”
"So far, it's perfect."
I took a quick inventory of my body, of the effect of the Working. The blisters were gone, and the muscle aches were manageable. I got up, threw a few coins to Inchay, and said, "I'm looking for a witch."
"There's a shop just down the street where they get their supplies. I'm sure Yulio could direct you to someone."
"Uh huh. Who do you know?"
He spread his hands. I didn't believe him, but I figured I could come back to him later. "Okay," I said. "Any idea where I can find Orbahn?"
"Haven't seen him."
I waited without saying anything, because that makes people uncomfortable. Eventually he added, "I imagine he'll be in later."
"Good work, Boss. So far, everything's going just as you exp—"
"Shut up.”
"All right," I said. "Where is the Guild hall?"
His eyes narrowed a little. "The Guild hall," he repeated.
I waited.
"Turn right when you leave. On this street about two hundred feet down. Two-story building painted light green."
I nodded a sort of thank-you and went back and sat down.
"What, not going, Boss?"
"Tomorrow. I'm still pretty exhausted, and I need to be at my best to tackle this Guild. I get the feeling they're a bit like the Empire, and a bit like the Jhereg.”
"Feeling.”
"Yeah. When that's all you've got, that's what you go with. Be' sides, hitting them early in the morning seems like the right approach.”