Once again, it’s unclear just when this occurred, but I was certainly functioning like a professional by the time I finished my seventh job—assassinating a little turd named Raiet.
While I was thinking over this announcement and wondering whether to laugh, I realized that Verra had left us; in other words, we had no way of knowing where to go from here.
I cleared my throat. Morrolan broke off from his staring contest with Aliera and said, “Yes, Vlad?”
“Do you know how we can find our way back to where all the gods were?”
“Hmmm. I think so.”
“Let’s do that, then.”
“Why?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“I suppose not.”
As I stood, I was taken with a fleeting temptation to take a drink from the well. It’s probably fortunate that it was only fleeting. We helped Aliera to stand, and I discovered that she was quite short—hardly taller than me, as a matter of fact.
We began walking back the way we’d come, Morrolan and me each supporting one of Aliera’s arms. She looked very unhappy. Her teeth were clenched, perhaps from anger, perhaps from pain. Her eyes, which I’d first thought were green, seemed to be grey, and were set straight ahead.
We made it back to the archway and rested there for a moment.
Morrolan suggested that Aliera sit down and rest her legs. Aliera said, “Shut up.”
I saw that Morrolan’s patience was wearing thin. So was mine, for that matter. We bit our lips at the same moment, caught each other’s eyes, and smiled a little. We took her arms and started moving again, in what Morrolan thought was the right direction. We took a few tentative steps and stopped again when Aliera gasped. She said, “I can’t ...” and we let her sink to the ground.
Her breath came in gasps. She closed her eyes, her head up toward the sky; her brow was damp and her hair seemed soaked with sweat. Morrolan and I looked at each other, but no words came.
A minute or so later, as we were still standing there wondering if we would mortally insult Aliera if we offered to carry her, we saw a figure approach us out of the darkness and gradually become visible in the light of those incredible stars.
He was very tall and his shoulders were huge. There was a massive sword at his back, and his facial features were pure Dragon, as were the colors of his clothing, though their form—a peculiar formless jacket and baggy trousers tucked into darrskin boots—were rather strange. His hair was brown and curly, his eyes dark. He was—or, rather, had died at—late middle age. He had lines of thought on his forehead, lines of anger around his eyes, and the sort of jaw that made me think he kept his teeth clenched a lot.
He studied the three of us while we looked at him. I wondered what Morrolan thought of him, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the Dragonlord’s face to check Morrolan’s expression. I felt my pulse begin to race and my knees suddenly felt weak. I had to swallow several times in quick succession.
When he finally spoke, he was addressing Aliera. “I was told I’d find you here.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything. She looked miserable. Morrolan, who I guess wasn’t used to being ignored, said, “I greet you, lord. I am Morrolan e’Drien.”
He turned to Morrolan and nodded. “Good day,” he said. “I am Kieron.”
Kieron.
Kieron the Conqueror.
Father of the Dragaeran Empire, elder of the proudest of lines of the House of the Dragon, hero of myth and legend, first of the great Dragaeran butchers of Easterners, and, well, I could go on, but what’s the point? Here he was.
Morrolan stared at him and slowly dropped to one knee. I didn’t know where to look.
People should know better.
I don’t know of any case of a Jhereg testifying to the Empire against the Jhereg and surviving, yet there are still fools who try. “I’m different,” they say. “I’ve got a plan. No one will be able to touch me; I’m protected.” Or maybe it isn’t even that well thought out, maybe it’s just that they’re unable to believe in their own mortality. Or else they figure that the amount of money the Empire is paying them makes it worth the risk.
But never mind, that isn’t my problem. I was hired through about four layers, I think. I met with a guy in front of a grocer, and we talked as we strolled around the block. Loiosh rode on my left shoulder. It was early morning, and the area we were in was empty. The guy was called “Feet” for some reason or other. I knew who he was, and when he proposed an assassination I knew it had to be big, because he was placed pretty high in the Organization. That meant that whoever had told him to get this done must be really important.
I told him, “I know people who do that kind of thing. Would you like to tell me about it?”
He said, “There was a problem between two friends of ours.” This meant between two Jhereg. “It got serious, and things started getting very uncomfortable all around.” This meant that one or both of these individuals was very highly placed in the Organization. “One of them was afraid he’d get hurt, and he panicked and went to the Empire for protection.”
I whistled. “Is he giving official testimony?”
“He already has to an extent, and he’s going to give more.”
“Ouch. That’s going to hurt.”
“We’re working on burying it. We may be able to. If we can’t, things will get nasty all over for a while.”
“Yeah, I imagine.”
“We need serious work done. I mean, serious work. You understand?”
I swallowed. “I think so, but you’d better state it clearly.”
“Morganti.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Your friend ever done that?”
“What’s the difference?”
“None, I suppose. Your friend will have the full backing of many people on this; all the support he needs.”
“Yeah, I’ll need some time to think about it.”
“Certainly. Take as much time as you need. The price is ten thousand imperials.”
“I see.”
“How much time do you need to think it over?”
I was silent for a few minutes as we walked. Then I said, “Tell me his name.”
“Raiet. Know him?”
“No.”
We walked for a while as I thought things over. The neighborhood did neighborhood things all around us. It was a peculiar, peaceful kind of walk. I said, “All right. I’ll do it.”
“Good,” he said. “Let’s walk over to my place. I’ll pay you and give you what information we have to start with. Let us know as you need more and we’ll do what we can.”
“Right,” I said.
I found myself taking a step backward from the father of the Dragaeran Empire, while conflicting thoughts and emotions buzzed around my brain faster than I could note them. Fear and anger fought for control of my mouth, but rationality won for a change.
We held these positions for a moment. Kieron continued to look down at Aliera. Something in how they looked at each other seemed to indicate they had met before. I don’t know how that could be, since Kieron was as old as the Empire and Aliera was less than a thousand years old, however you measured her age.
Kieron said, “Well, will you stand up?”
Her eyes flashed. She hissed, “No, I’m going to lie right here forever.” Yes, I know there are no sibilants in what she said. I don’t care; she hissed it.
Kieron chuckled. “Very well,” he said. “If you ever do decide to stand up, you may come and speak to me.” He started to turn away, stopped, looked right at me. For some reason I couldn’t meet his eyes. He said, “Have you anything to say to me?”
My tongue felt thick in my mouth. I could find no words. Kieron left.
Morrolan stood up. Aliera was quietly sobbing on the ground. Morrolan and I studied our belt buckles. Presently Aliera became silent; then she said in a small voice, “Please help me to rise.”
We did, Morrolan indicated a direction, and we set off on our slow, limping way. Loiosh was being strangely silent. I said, “Something bothering you, chum?”