Teckla
Book 3 in the
Vlad Taltos
series
By Steven Brust
This is the city: Adrilankha, Whitecrest.
The capital and largest city of the Dragaeran Empire contains all that makes up the domain, but in greater concentration. All of the petty squabbles within the seventeen Great Houses, and sometimes among them, become both more petty and more vicious here. Dragonlords fight for honor, the Iorich nobles fight for justice, Jhereg nobles fight for money, and Dzurlords fight for fun.
If, in the course of this squabbling, a law is broken, the injured party may appeal to the Empire, which oversees the interplay of Houses with an impartiality that does credit to a Lyorn judging a duel. But the organization that exists at the core of House Jhereg operates illegally. The Empire is both unwilling and unable to enforce the laws and customs governing this inner society. Yet, sometimes, these unwritten laws are broken.
That's when I go to work. I'm an assassin.
Prologue
I found an oracle about three blocks down on Undauntra, a little out of my area. He wore the blue and white of the House of the Tiassa, and worked out of a hole-in-the-wall above a bakery, reached by climbing a long, knotted wooden stairway between crumbling walls to a rotting door. The inside of the place was about right. Leave it at that.
He wasn't busy, so I threw a couple of gold Imperials onto the table in front of him and sat opposite him on a shoddy octagonal stool that matched his. He looked to be a bit old, probably pushing fifteen hundred.
He glanced at the pair of jhereg riding my shoulders, but chose to pretend to be unexcited. "An Easterner," he said. Brilliant. "And a Jhereg." The man was a genius. "How may I serve you?"
"I have," I told him, "suddenly acquired more cash than I've ever dreamed of having. My wife wants me to build a castle. I could buy a higher title in the Jhereg—I'm now a baronet. Or I could use the money to expand my business. If I choose the latter, I risk, in turn, competition problems. How serious will these be? That's my question."
He put his right arm on the table and rested his chin on it, drumming the tabletop with the fingers of his left hand while staring up at me. He must have recognized me; how many Easterners are there who are high up in the organization and wander around with jhereg on their shoulders?
When he'd looked at me long enough to be impressive, he said, "If you try to expand your business, a mighty organization will fall."
Well, la-dee-da. I leaned over the table and slapped him.
"Rocza wants to eat him, boss. Can she?"
"Maybe later, Loiosh. Don't bother me."
To the Tiassa, I said, "I have a vision of you with two broken legs. I wonder if it's a true one?"
He mumbled something about sense of humor, and closed his eyes. After thirty seconds or so, I saw sweat on his forehead. Then he shook his head and brought out a deck of cards wrapped in blue velvet with his House insignia on them. I groaned. I hate Card readers.
"Maybe he wants to play shereba," said Loiosh. I caught the faint psionic echo of Rocza laughing.
The oracle looked apologetic. "I wasn't getting anything," he explained.
"All right, all right," I said. "Let's get on with it."
After we went through the ritual, he tried to explain all the oracular meanings the Cards revealed to him. When I said, "Just the answers please," he looked hurt.
He studied the Mountain of Changes for a while, then said, "As far as I can see, m'lord, it doesn't matter. What's going to happen doesn't depend on any action you're going to take."
He gave me the apologetic look again. He must have practiced it. "That's the best I can do."
Splendid. "All right," I said. "Keep the change." That was supposed to be a joke, but I don't think he got it, so he probably still thinks I have no sense of humor.
I went back down the stairs and out onto Undauntra, a wide street packed full of craft shops on the east side and sparsely settled with small homes on the west, making it look oddly lopsided. About halfway back to my office, Loiosh said, "Someone's coming, boss. Looks like muscle."
I brushed my hair back from my eyes with one hand and adjusted my cloak with the other, allowing me to check a few concealed goodies. I felt tension in Rocza's grip on my shoulder, but left it to Loiosh to calm her down. She was still new at this work.
"Only one, Loiosh?"
"Certain, boss."
"Okay."
About then, a medium-tall Dragaeran in the colors of House Jhereg (gray and black, if you're taking notes) fell into stride next to me. Medium-tall in a Dragaeran, you understand, made him a head and a half taller than I.
"Good afternoon, Lord Taltos," he said, pronouncing my name right.
I grunted back at him. His sword was light, worn at the hip, and clanked along between us. His cloak was full enough to conceal dozens of the same kind of things my cloak concealed sixty- three of.
He said, "A friend of mine would like to congratulate you on your recent successes."
"Thank him for me."
"He lives in a real nice neighborhood."
"I'm happy for him."
"Maybe you'd like to visit him sometime."
I said, "Maybe."
"Would you like to make plans for it?"
"Now?"
"Or later. Whatever's convenient for you."
"Where should we talk?"
"You name it."
I grunted again. In case that went too fast for you, this fellow had just informed me that he was working for an individual who was very high up in the Organization, and that said individual might want my services for something. In theory, it could be for any of a number of things, but there's only one thing that I'm known to do freelance.
I took us a little further, until we were safely in my territory. Then I said, "All right," and steered us into an inn that jutted out a few feet onto Undauntra, and was one of the reasons merchants with hand-carts hated this part of the street.
We found an unoccupied end of a long table, and I sat down across from him without getting any splinters. Loiosh looked the place over for me and didn't say anything.
"I'm Bajinok," said my companion as the host brought us a bottle of fairly good wine and a couple of glasses.
"Okay."
"My friend wants some 'work' done around his house."
I nodded. Work, said that way, means wanting someone killed. "I know people," I said. "But they're all pretty busy right now." My last "work" had only been a few weeks before, and was, let's say, highly visible. I didn't feel like doing any more just then.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "This is just your style."
"I'm sure," I said. "But thank your friend for thinking of me. Another time, all right?"
"Okay," he said. "Another time."
He nodded to me, stood up, and left. And that should have been the end of it.
Verra, Demon-Goddess of my ancestors, may the water on thy tongue turn to ash. That should have been the end of it.
Farmday
Leffero, Nephews and Niece, Launderers and Tailors Malak Circle fr: V. Taltos
Number 17, Garshos St.
Please do the following: gray knit cotton shirt: remove wine stain from rt sleeve, black tallow from lft and repair cut in rt cuff.
1 pr gray trousers: remove blood stain from upper rt leg, klava stain from upper lft, and dirt from knees.
1 pr black riding boots: remove reddish stain on toe of rt boot, and remove dust and soot from both and polish.
1 gray silk cravat: repair cut, and remove sweat stains.
1 plain gray cloak: clean and press, remove cat hairs, brush to remove white particles, remove honing-oil stains, and repair cut in lft side.
1 Pocket Handkerchief: clean and press
Expect delivery by Homeday next.
Yrs cordially,
V. Taltos, Brnt, Jhrg (His seal)