I studied it. I couldn’t guess how old it was, but in any case the stones were dirty and somewhat worn.
“Boss? I’m getting nervous.”
“Me too,” I said, noticing my finger tapping on Lady Teldra’s hilt. “Think we’re being watched?”
“Maybe. Should we check?”
“Yeah.”
They flew off toward the castle, staying high and swinging wide to cover as much distance as possible. Jhereg have very good eyes; it is hard for something to stay hidden from them even in dense brush, or under a canopy of trees.
“You are being watched, Boss. Two of them, just up the slope behind trees.”
Loiosh flew in tight circles, indicating where they were; Rocza returned to my shoulder.
“Are they watching casually, or actively trying to be stealthy?”
“More just casually watching.”
“Okay.”
Hmm. How to play this? If I walked up and confronted them, would they attack? Would they try to take me to the castle? If they did, would I just get snapped back again? And why were they watching me? Just because I was a stranger, or had I done something to attract their interest? I wasn’t in the mood to fight anyone.
I shrugged and made my way toward Loiosh.
They came out to meet me. The shorter one opened the conversation with great courtesy: “Who are you, and what are you doing skulking around here?” she said. Her speech was clipped, and the vowels sounded like they’d been turned on their side. The other one kept glancing at Rocza.
My name is Szurke, and I will someday hold an Imperial title so you have to be polite out of fear of a future Empress probably wouldn’t have worked well. I said, “My name is Taltos, and I’m afraid I’m lost.”
“Lost,” repeated the other, though it sounded like lahst. She took her eyes from Rocza and raked me up and down with them like she was brushing lies off my jerkin, then turned to the first and said, “He says he’s lost, sergeant.”
“I heard,” said the first. Something in her tone gave me the crazy idea that she didn’t believe me. She—the sergeant—said, “Who are you working for?”
“No one,” I said. “I’m available for hire. What do you need done?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Please hand me your weapons and come with me.”
“No, and yes,” I said.
It took her a second to work that out. Then she said, “I must insist.”
“That would be a tactical error.” I started tapping Lady Teldra’s hilt with my finger and waited. Loiosh returned to my shoulder, looked at her, and hissed. “You are outnumbered, you know,” I said, and waited to see what they’d do.
11. Gormin’s Guest
They hesitated. I’d put them in a tough position, what with there being only two of them; but being Dragonlords in spite of the Vallista colors, they weren’t about to back down to an Easterner. I didn’t actually want things to get bloody. It had been a while since I’d drawn blood at all, and I didn’t miss it. (Giving that idiot game warden a bloody nose doesn’t count; if he’d been willing to drop his club he could have caught himself before he hit the table, right?) In the past I’d have happily handed over my rapier and knife, counting on my extras to take care of things if there were problems; but in the past I hadn’t had Lady Teldra. No way was I putting her into someone else’s hands.
As far as Sarge and friend were concerned, the choices were between drawing steel and calling for reinforcements. I needed to give them another option, and I had to do it so they didn’t feel they were being mocked by an Easterner. I studied the sergeant’s eyes, and saw the little flicker as she made up her mind to draw.
“Look,” I said. “There’s no need for this. I’ll come with you if you want, and I’m not about to attack anyone. I just don’t feel inclined to disarm myself.”
“If you don’t plan on attacking anyone, why not?”
“If I did, how much chance would I have against not only you two, but however many more of you there are inside? If you really want to arrest me, go ahead and try. But if you just want to talk to me, then let’s all go inside together, like civilized folk, and we’ll have a conversation.”
It wasn’t working. I spared a few precious instants to have silent evil thoughts about Dragonlords and all of their offspring from the beginning of the Empire to the end of the world. It didn’t take long; I keep a few of those thoughts around to be used as needed.
“Look,” I said. “I wasn’t sneaking, I wasn’t hiding. I’m lost, and I was heading to the castle there, or whatever it is, to beg help. Do you really need to disarm me just to point to a way out and ask a few questions? I’ll answer anything you want to know, I just hate having my weapons taken away. You’re Dragonlords; surely you can understand that?”
The key was that I used the word “beg.” That word put me beneath them. I wasn’t challenging them, I was a conquered foe asking for decent treatment, which made it a matter of mercy, not honor. Dragonlords love showing mercy because it makes them feel powerful. Convincing Dragonlords to show you mercy is the best way to not have to kill them.
She hesitated a moment longer, then relaxed and nodded. “Trev, get behind him. And watch your distance; he looks fast, and those creatures look faster.” She wasn’t stupid, that one. But as I had no intention of attacking them, it didn’t much matter. We walked up the hill toward the castle with Loiosh keeping his eye on the Dragonlord following me. I was still expecting whatever strange magic had brought me here to snap me back, the way it had before; but no, the thing fooled me again: we made it right up to the castle.
We entered through a doorway that stuck out from the side of the castle like it had been grafted on. The sergeant preceded me in, then led me down a narrow hallway that looked nothing at all like anything in the manor: it was lit by hanging lamps that smelled of darr fat, and paved with dark gray stones. The walls were standard brick, but the mortar seemed yellow in the lamplight. I hoped I wasn’t being led to a cell. I didn’t doubt my ability to break out, but after I did I’d have to escape, which wouldn’t help Devera a bit.
The sergeant brought me to a room I recognized at once as an officer’s quarters, complete with desk and two chairs. She gestured for me to sit in one, and said, “Trev, find me some support, and inform the lieutenant.” Trev left, and the sergeant leaned against the wall, arms folded. I turned the chair so I wouldn’t have my back to her. Her hair was cut short under her cap, and the sleeves had been cut off of her tunic the way some Dragonlords do to permit more arm movement. She carried a shortsword on either side, and I decided I’d just as soon not fight her if I could avoid it.
“I gave you my name,” I said. “What’s yours?”
“Sir will do,” she said.
“Now, here I thought we were going to have a civilized conversation.”
“You were wrong.”
So much for conversational gambits.
A few minutes later, three guards entered; the sergeant sent them into different corners of the room without saying a word. One of them, a scrawny guy with a pronounced nose and no chin at all, seemed awfully curious about me from the way he kept staring, but I guess he was too much a soldier to open his mouth without permission. That’s one reason I’m not a soldier.