He seemed to accept that, if I'm any judge of grunts.
I said, "Is it always like that?"
"Like what?"
"With Saabo. The mill workers looking down on the peasants."
"Yeah, well, we don't have a lot to say them, either. They stink."
"I noticed that you frequent different establishments."
"What?"
"You drink in different places."
"Oh. Yeah, most of us. Except sometimes some guys will go into the wrong place to stir up a fight. It doesn't usually happen, though. The Guild jumps on it pretty quick."
I nodded. "Yes, I suppose it would be bad for business."
I smiled to myself. Nothing new there, but confirmation of what I'd suspected was always nice.
Meehayi finished helping me eat and left again, still looking slightly bewildered.
After he'd gone, Loiosh said, "All right, Boss. Care to explain?"
"I've got a sort of idea, but it won't work unless all three—Count, Guild, and Coven— are in each other's pockets, because otherwise I can't make it work. I'd suspected, but until today I wasn't sure."
"Okay, Boss. What did you find out?"
"The tags in this area don't have a problem with Sheep Disease."
"Which means?"
"Which means there is a business arrangement between the Guild and the Coven. Mutual benefit, mutual dependence."
"Oh. What is Sheep Disease?"
"You don't want to know. You're a jhereg; you're immune. Be happy."
"But—okay.”
I tried to sit up; failed. I still didn't know how to knock out that one leg of the stool. Loiosh was silent as I went over what I knew yet again, and got nowhere.
Who should I go after? Dahni? His role in this, it turns out, had been one of the easier ones to figure out. But no, he was done. I couldn't use him. Probably no one could use him. If he was lucky, he'd have made his way out of the country by now. Orbahn? No, he was too smart; he'd put it together.
I tried to sit up again, and failed again; sat back sweating and breathing heavily. I scowled.
"Take it easy, Boss. You'll give the physicker heart failure."
"Thanks, Loiosh."
"For what?"
I didn't answer for a while. I just sat there and smiled while my brain went click, click, click—just like it had before, just like in the old days. Yes. They may have broken my body, but my brain still worked. If you think that isn't important to someone in my condition, your brain doesn't work.
I nodded to myself. Loiosh said, "Does it have to be now?"
"What?"
"I understand you want to settle, things, Boss, but is there any reason you can't come back in a year and do it?"
"Funny you should say that. If you'd asked a few minutes ago, I'd have said forget it— just like I'm saying today—but a few minutes ago I wouldn't have been able to give you a good reason."
"Oh, I see. Okay, Boss. What's the great reason?"
“Now there's no need. I can settle things right now. Today."
"You can kick out the leg?"
"Yes.”
"And be sure the right one wins?"
"There is no right one, only a wrong one."
"Who's the wrong one?"
"The Coven."
"Ah right. But how are you going to set this off from flat on your back?"
"I'm not. Meehayi is."
"I can t wait to see how that works out."
"I can't wait to be done with this, and out of this town."
"That's the first thing you've said that I've agreed with in more than a week."
"Yeah. Which reminds me; I need to arrange a fast exit from this place once my business is finished."
"And that's the second. Any idea how to go about it?"
"I think I'd like to speak with Father Noij.”
"Huh?"
"He can do it, and he will."
"Uh, sure, Boss. I'll fly right out and get him."
I chuckled. "I don't think that will be necessary.”
"Boss, why won't you just tell me what happened?"
I didn't answer.
"You don't want to tell me, do you?"
I didn't answer.
He said, "They took you, didn't they?"
I stared up at the ceiling for a long time. Then I nodded. "I had thought someone was playing me," I said. "I didn't realize that they were all playing me."
"Oh. Working together?"
"No. That's the thing. On their own, independently. That's what threw me. But the effect was as if they were working together."
After that he let me alone for a while. He knew I'd have to tell him about it eventually, and he can be an understanding little bastard on occasion.
Everything I'd said was true, and I was confident of all my conclusions, and the plan that was formulating in my head seemed sound. But there was still that one factor that I couldn't control, couldn't see, couldn't anticipate, and certainly couldn't ignore: The Jhereg now knew where I was. Yes, I still felt a fair bit of confidence in all those things I'd said: A Dragaeran would stand out, and a Morganti weapon would most certainly stand out. But what I hadn't said was: Give them enough time, and they'll find a way around those problems. They're tenacious, they're brutal, and when they have to be, they're creative. I know, I was one.
Once a fellow I was after surrounded himself with such solid protection that bribing them all would have cost more than I was being paid for the job. So I hired an actor to play a legitimate Chreotha merchant, hired another to play a low-level boss from Candletown, a few others to play flunkies and lackeys, and spent eleven weeks constructing a phony business deal for the guy just to get him to a meeting—no bodyguards permitted, you understand the need for secrecy—at which I turned out to be the only one doing any business. The whole story—why he needed to go, how everything played out—is interesting, and I may tell it someday. It was elaborate, elegant, and, if I may say so (after some initial foul-ups and few scary moments here and there), perfect.
What it wasn't was unique.
My point is this: Give the Jhereg enough time, and they will find a way to nail you. Was I giving them too much time? I didn't think so.
I reviewed what I knew yet again, and finally said, "Okay, let's do this."
"Now?"
"Now. Think you could manage to open my pack and bring me something out of it? It should be in the box, or next to it."
"Maybe, Boss. I can try. As long as you promise not to make any opposable thumb comments if I fail."
"None for a week, Loiosh, either way."
"What do you want?"
"Do you know the little bottle that I keep tincture of lithandrial in?"
"Huh? Sure, Boss. Since I don't think you'll be satisfied giving anyone the nettles, I assume you have the backache. But shouldn't you ask the physicker—"
"Loiosh, at this point I wouldn't even notice the backache if I had it. Just get the thing, if you can."
He could, and presently I was holding it, and I learned that opening a tightly corked bottle is much more difficult than feeding yourself. I eventually got it open.