"I'll tell her," said Kragar.
"Thanks. Good luck." I teleported.
It was like rehearsing a play; as if the director had said, "Do the bit over where you meet on the steps of the lorich Wing, only this time make it more intense." This time she put her arms around me and held me like she meant it. I put my arms around her and wondered why I wasn't reacting more strongly. Loiosh and Rocza kept careful watch around us.
"Tell me about it," she said.
Standing there, alone on the deserted steps as the slow, thorough evening tucked itself into the corners of the Palace, I did. I told her everything, and as I did, I wondered at the calm voice of this speaker, relating the tale of revolution, assassination, and intrigue as if he had no part in it. What is he feeling now? I wondered. I wished they'd found someone for the part more able to convey emotion. Or perhaps that was the effect desired by the director, if not the playwright.
When I finished, she pulled back and stared at me. "They'll kill you," she said.
"I don't think so."
"What will stop them?"
"I have a plan."
"Tell me."
"First you tell me—are you coming back to me?"
She didn't look away, as I'd expected. Instead she studied me carefully, as one studies a stranger whose mood and meaning one is trying to read from his face. She didn't say anything, which I think was an answer. But I put it into words. "Too much has happened. Too much murder, too much change. Whatever we had, we don't have it. Can we create something else? I don't know. But you're going one way and I'm going another. For now, that is."
Her eyes were so big. "You're going away, aren't you-"
"Yes."
"Are you ever coming back?" She asked it with a odd, detached air, as if she wasn't certain how much she cared, or was afraid she cared too much, or afraid she cared too little.
"I don't know," I said.
She nodded. "When are you leaving?"
"Right away."
"I'm sorry things have worked out this way."
"Me, too."
"You've left the business to Kragar?"
"Most of it. Except for South Adrilankha."
"What are you doing with that?"
I thought about the courtyard of Castle Black, until the image was strong and clear. I strengthened my connection to the Orb, drew energy, and began the teleport. "All Organization interests in South Adrilankha are yours," I said. "My people will be seeing you in the morning. Enjoy," I added, and I was gone.
Aliera and I sat alone in the library of Castle Black, waiting for Sethra and Morrolan to join us. This place, like my office, held more than a few memories. I'd sat here with my friends—yes, they were certainly that—and held war-councils, consoled each other, and celebrated. Much wine had flowed in this room along with tears and laughter, as well as promises of aid and threats of dismemberment; many of these things within minutes of each other
I noticed that Aliera was looking at me. "I met your daughter," I said.
"What daughter?"
"You'll find out."
"What are you talking about?"
"Ask your mother. Time does funny things around her, I guess."
She didn't answer directly. "I'll miss you," she said.
"I might be back; who knows?"
"The Jhereg carries a grudge."
"Don't I know it. But still—"
"What will you do?"
"I don't know. I want to be alone for a while."
"I can't imagine that."
"Me wanting to be alone? I suppose you're right. I'll have Loiosh and Rocza, anyway."
"Still-"
"Yeah. I'll probably find some place with 'people around. Probably Dragaerans, so I can go back to hating them in general and loving them in particular. But right now, I don't want to see anyone."
"I understand," she said.
"I owe you a lot."
"I owe you my life," she said.
"And I owe you mine, several times. I sometimes wish I could remember that previous life, back in the beginning."
"Sethra could arrange that," said Aliera.
"Not now."
"It might help you come to terms with who you are."
"I'll find my own way."
"Yes. You always do."
Morrolan and Sethra joined us before I could ask how she meant that. I said, "This is good-bye, for a while."
"So I had gathered," said Morrolan. "I wish you well on your travels. I shall watch over your grandfather for you."
"Thanks."
Sethra said, "I expect we will meet again, in this life or the next."
"The next," I said. "One way or another, it will be a different life."
"Yes," said Sethra. "You're right." I took my leave without another word.
Last of all I spoke with my grandfather. "You look well," he said.
"Thanks."
For the first time in my adult life, I was looking like an Easterner, not a Jhereg. I still had the same cloak, but it was now dyed green. I wore loose darrskin boots, green pants, and a light blue tunic.
"It's necessary, under the circumstances," I said.
"What circumstances are these, Vladimir?"
I explained what had happened, what I was doing about it, and what I thought he should do. He shook his head. "To be a ruler, Vladimir, even of a small place, it is a skill that I have not."
"Noish-pa, you don't have to rule. You don't have to do anything. There are about a hundred families of Teckla there, and a few Easterners, and they've been getting on quite well without anyone ruling them. You need not change anything. A stipend from the Empire goes with the title, and it is sufficient for you to live on. All you have to do is go to Lake Szurke and live in the manor, or castle, or whatever it is. If the peasants come to you with problems, I have no doubt you can suggest solutions, but they probably won't. You can continue your work there with no one to bother you. Where else will you go? And it is just west of Pepperfields, which is in the mountains west of Fenario, so you will be close to our homeland. What could be better?"
He frowned, and at last he nodded. "But what about you?" he said.
"I don't know. I am running for my life now. If things change, and I feel it safe to return, I will."
"And your wife?"
"That's over," I said.
"Is it?"
I tried to meet his eyes, but couldn't. "For now, it is. Maybe later, maybe after time has passed, but not now."
"I threw the sands last night, Vladimir. For the first time in twenty years, I threw the sands and asked what would become of me. I felt the power, and I read the symbols, and they said I would live to hold a greatgrandchild in my arms. Do you think the sands were wrong?"
"I don't know," I said. "I hope they were not. But if you are to see a grandchild, I must be alive to conceive one."
He nodded. "Very well, Vladimir. Do what you must. I will go to this place, and I will live there, so you will know where to find me when you can."
"When I can," I said. "When I can."
EPILOGUE
There was a place I remembered well, that meant nothing to anyone else, but a great deal to me. It was engraved forever in my memory, from the isolated patches of bright blue safe-weed among the tall grasses to the bent oak that loomed over the clearing as if to keep it safe from predators above; from the thorns of the wild winesage to the even slope of the wallbush, pointing away from the nearest water. Though barely more than a child when I'd been there before, I knew it; it had etched itself into my memory with a fine detail that I usually saved for the locations of hidden weapons on enemies or the daily habits of targets. Nature, in all its varied beauties and horrors, had hitherto been lost on me, save for this place. Perhaps now that would change.
Somewhere to my left came the sniggering laugh of a chreotha, spitting out its weaving to trap a norska or a squirrel. A bring-me-home, growing from the oak, whipped back and forth in the chilly breeze like a lazy whip: woosh-snap, woosh-snap. A daythief, somewhere above me, sobbed in counterpoint to the chreotha. The breeze made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and I shivered pleasantly. It was just time for lilacs to loom; they were plentiful here and the scent mixed well with the blossoming of a stonefruit tree that hid itself behind the wallbush, outside the clearing.