“He didn’t know where the guy came from, but, yeah, Byrna has a protector.”
I cursed under my breath and listened.
“Trotter found Byrna at one of his usual hangouts, went after him with a lepip, and the next thing he knew he was full of holes. He didn’t get a good description of the guy, except that he wore blue.”
I sighed. “All right.”
“I imagine,” he said, “you’ll need me to go find out things I have no way of finding out, right?”
“Naw,” I said. “I’ll just go meet the guy.”
Kragar nodded. “Smart move. I’ll send flowers.”
“Hmm?”
“I thought that was the Eastern custom.”
“Oh, right. It is. Good. I’ll be counting on it.”
“Vlad—”
“I know what I’m doing, Kragar.”
“Sure about that, Boss?”
“Shut up.”
Kragar made a grunt, indicating he believed me about as much as Loiosh did. This is a reaction I’m used to from those who know me.
Kragar left, and Loiosh started in. Did I really know what I was doing? Did I care that I was walking into a trap? Did I this? Did I that? Blah blah blah.
“Melestav!”
He poked his head through the door.
“Message to Lord Baron Byrna of Landrok. Begins: I will be honored to wait upon you at the fifth hour after noon of this day. I Remain, My Lord, Sincerely and all that. Ends. Send it to him at the Blackdove Inn.”
“Will do.”
“Shoen and Sticks?”
“They’re both here.”
I nodded. I checked the time with the Imperial Orb, and I still had several hours. Good.
I got up from the desk and strapped on my rapier, increasing the number of weapons I was carrying by an insignificant percentage, then put on my cloak, increasing that number by a much larger percentage. Concealing hardware in a big, flowing cloak is pretty easy. The hard part is keeping said hardware from clanking, and arranging it so the cloak looks and feels like it’s a reasonable weight. It had taken a lot of trial and error to get there, and it still took a bit of fiddling about before it was adjusted properly on my shoulders. But eventually I got it and I walked out, telling Melestav I’d be back later.
Kragar wasn’t in the room. That I noticed. The two guys I’d brought for protection were; I nodded to them, they stood up and followed. Shoen walked like he was one mass of muscle, just waiting to explode as soon as he had a direction to explode in—and that’s pretty much what he was. Sticks was tall and lanky and he walked as if he were just out enjoying the ocean scent and wouldn’t notice a threat if it was right in front of him. He wasn’t really like that.
We went down the stairs, past the little business that gave me a nice legal cover, and out into the street. Sticks kept a couple of steps ahead of me and to the street side, Shoen a bit behind me away from the street. We didn’t talk about it, just sort of fell into it. I’d worked with them both before.
The Blackdove Inn is considerably south and just a hair east of my area, in the part of Adrilankha called Baker’s Corner for reasons I couldn’t guess at. Jhereg operations there are controlled by a fellow named Horin; protocol required me to let him know if I was doing anything major in his area and get his permission if appropriate. But as far as I knew, this would be nothing major. And besides, I didn’t like him much.
Just inside Baker’s Corner, along Six Horses Way, there’s a public house called the Basket that at times has a slab of beef turning on a spit, and periodically they douse it with a mixture of wine and salt and pepper and magobud and whiteseed. You have to get there early, because if you don’t it will be either overcooked or gone. I was there early. The host cut some for me, slapped it unceremoniously on a plate, and nodded toward the basket of rolls. I had some summer ale to go with it and sat down. I also got some for Shoen and Sticks—I figured we were safe here, because Loiosh was watching, so they could eat.
We sat and we ate and it was good.
My philosophy is that if I’m going to do something reckless, I should have a good meal first.
“So, you want to tell us what’s up?” said Sticks.
“Don’t know,” I said. “You heard about Trotter?”
“Yeah. Nasty business. It’s like the streets aren’t safe anymore.”
I nodded. “I’m going to see about it.”
“And we’re going to make sure you don’t get the same treatment while you do?”
“Something like that.”
“Any details you feel like sharing?”
“I just know I’m meeting a guy at an inn.”
“The guy who did it?”
“Probably, though that’s not what was on the invitation.”
“All right.”
Shoen kept eating. Talkative bastard, that one.
“So, how do we play it?”
I shrugged. “We go in, see what’s up, decide. You guys try to keep me alive long enough for me to make a decision.”
He ate another bite, chewed it, and swallowed. “It’s a good thing you have us to watch out for you, otherwise you’d be helpless.” He winked at Loiosh.
“He’s as funny as you, Boss.”
“Why thank you, Loiosh.”
“Point proven. You should probably send one of these guys over an hour early, just to look things over.”
“No one is trying to kill me, Loiosh.”
“Explain that to Trotter.”
We finished up the meal, and they went out the door in front of me to make sure no one was waiting outside to do me harm. No one was; those days were over, at least for a while.
We took our time getting to the Blackdove. I stopped on the way at a candlemaker’s and got a candle that stood about four feet high and was scented with lavender, along with a silver holder for it. I figured Cawti might like it. I had them send it to the office, because whatever happened later, walking around with a four-foot-tall candle was unlikely to make it go any better.
“Boss, you know you’re going to make those two wonder if you’re in control of yourself.”
“Feh. Because I bought a candle?”
“No, because you’re walking around with a stupid grin on your face.”
“You can’t even see my face.”
“I don’t need to see your face.”
I got my features back under control, and found we still had an hour or so before the meeting, so we took our time getting there. I looked into shop windows for other stuff to get Cawti, but didn’t see anything that felt right.
And then it was time, and we covered the last half mile or so, and I walked into the inn about five minutes early. It was quiet—not the sort of place that’s busy between lunch hour and dusk. The hostess looked half asleep behind the bar, and there was one Teckla snoring loudly, his head down on the table in front of him. The other individual was a rather attractive woman who was obviously a Dzur; she wore loose-fitting black clothing and had a whole lot of steel strapped to her side. She was in the back corner, her head against the wall, apparently dozing, but probably watching us through her lashes. I caught Stick’s eye, and he caught mine; enough said.
I approached the bar and the hostess opened her eyes, looked at me, looked at me again, hesitated, then said, “My lord?”