Issola, Page 2

  “Kiera never explained what happened to the boy,” said Teldra after a while.

  “Not that much to tell,” I said. “If I were just a bit more cynical, I’d say it was a debt of honor. He was hurt in my service, so I tried to help him.”

  “And you succeeded?”

  “The Justicers are debating that one. I think so, at least in part.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Back with his family, not far from here.” I recalled his fam­ily’s reaction to his return, and then their reaction to me, and refrained from giving Teldra any additional information.

  We reached Appertown, with its post office, dry goods store, and inn. The latter, which boasted a faded sign that had once been red and seemed to have a chicken’s head painted on it, was almost deserted, but the three Teckla occupying a table in the back quickly looked away from Teldra while trying to glance at me covertly. If I had been wearing my Jhereg colors, instead of the nondescript leather I now affected, they wouldn’t have dared to look at me, either.

  The hostess, a Teckla who was too thin to give me much confidence in the food, seemed a bit wary as she asked what we wanted.

  “Klava, if you have any,” I said.

  “Klava?” she repeated as if she’d never heard the word be­fore.

  “If not,” said Teldra, “we should be glad of coffee.”

  “We have a klava press somewhere,” she said. “But—”

  “You must have eggshells,” I said. “Have you any vanilla bean?”

  “Oh, I’m certain we have that. But I don’t know how to make the filter.”

  “I do,” I said. “If you’ll allow me into your kitchen—”

  “Vlad,” said Teldra softly. “I think coffee would do, wouldn’t it? As long as there is honey and cream.”

  “Very well,” I said. The hostess sent Teldra a look full of gratitude and scuttled off for coffee. She brought back two mugs, along with a pitcher of thick cream and a jar of honey. Teldra gave her a smile that our hostess probably valued more than the money we’d leave with her later. Along with the coffee, she brought us each a sample of the house bread—a small, round loaf with a hole in the middle, cut horizontally and lightly toasted. I tried it.

  “Not bad,” I said. “This would be good with smoked pinkfish and buttercheese.”

  “And a bit of onion,” agreed Teldra.

  As I mixed the proper proportions of my coffee, Teldra said, “How do you brew klava?”

  “You don’t know?”

  She smiled. “I can serve it with the best, but I’ve never needed to learn how to brew it.”

  “You press coffee through a filter made of eggshells and wood chips with vanilla bean, then reheat it so it almost boils, then you pass it through a cloth to remove any oils brought out by the reheating.”

  “Wood chips?”

  “Hickory works well, also fegra, cherrywood, and crocra. It’s the wood, or combination of woods, that makes each version unique. Well, and how much vanilla you use. Also, some people add cinnamon, but I don’t; cinnamon is just as good if you add it later. Everyone has his own recipe. Valabar’s does it best, but they do everything best. I miss Valabar’s.”

  “Is that all you miss, Lord Taltos?”

  The expression on her face made it seem like light banter rather than an intrusive question, so I said, “Maybe one or two other things. And, even though we are enclosed by four walls, I still consider this the wilderness.”

  She smiled. “Very well, Vlad.”

  I took another sip of coffee and missed Valabar’s. This inn was a single-story building, stretching back quite a ways from the road, and built of molded brick with what had once been very nice woodwork around the windows; but now the wood was old, scratched up, and showing signs of dry rot. There was no actual bar, such as Adrilankha’s inns always had, but just various tables with glasses and bottles sitting on them. We sat near the front door; two doors led back, no doubt to various sleeping rooms, and another went back to the kitchen. I always notice the entrances and exits when I’m in a new place, although there haven’t been many times in my life when noticing actually did me any good. It’s just one of those things you do, like warming up your muscles before and after fencing practice. I once asked my grandfather, who taught me fencing, how, were I ever jumped by brigands, I could convince them to wait while I warmed up. He just rolled his eyes and gave me a flank strike, which I parried, causing the tip of his weapon to whip past my guard and leave a nasty welt on my forearm. After that I made my questions more serious.

  “Would you like to share your thoughts, Vlad?”

  “Have you ever had a practice saber whip around the bell of your weapon and leave a welt on your arm?”

  “Why, no, I can’t say I have.”

  “Then you wouldn’t understand.”

  She laughed. You never know if an Issola is laughing to be polite. I resolved not to try to be funny around her.

  “How long do you think that will last, Boss?”

  We finished our coffee at about the same time and called for more, which was brought with a cheer and alacrity that showed the hostess had fallen under Teldra’s spell. No surprise there.

  I said, “So Kiera told you how to find me, Sethra did the locating, and Morrolan let you go into his tower and use one of his Magical Mystical Powerful Transcendental Wizard Windows to get here. What I’d like to know—”

  “Not exactly,” said Teldra.

  “Oh?”

  “Morrolan didn’t exactly let me use the window.”

  “Go on.”

  “Morrolan ... that is, I didn’t ask him.”

  “You didn’t ask him.”

  “I couldn’t. I didn’t—that is, I don’t know where he is.”

  “I see. I begin to see. I think I begin to see.”

  “Perhaps I should begin at the beginning.”

  “Arbitrary. But still, not a bad choice.”

  “Almost a minute, Boss. Good work.”

  “Shut up, Loiosh.”

  “Well, to begin with, then, the world was made when the Gods created a ball of amorphia to hang—”

  “Maybe we should let Loiosh make the jokes.”

  “But you’re the only one who can hear him.”

  “Believe me, Teldra, that’s a blessing for you.”

  She smiled. She had dimples. I tried to remember how many Dragaerans I’d met who had dimples. Plenty of humans did, but I didn’t recall seeing many on Dragaerans.

  “Early in the morning, four days ago,” she said, “I received a message from Her Majesty, the Empress, asking Morrolan to extend his hospitality to a certain Lady Marquana, House of the Athyra, who would be in the area on Imperial business.”

  “What sort of Imperial business?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Probably not, but asking questions makes me feel smarter.”

  She dimpled again. “In point of fact, Vlad, I don’t know.”

  I shrugged. She continued, “I went to find Morrolan, and he wasn’t in the library. I attempted psychic contact, and failed to reach him.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  “Unprecedented.”

  “Really? He’s never been busy?”

  “If so, he has told me in advance. The only time I have been unable to reach him is when he has been, well, off the world.”

  “Off the world?”

  She studied me. “You know something of those windows.”

  “Ah. Yes. And this didn’t happen often?”

  “Twice before, and both times he told me ahead of time he would be out of touch, and left instructions about what to do in case of trouble.”

  “What were those instructions, Teldra?”

  “To reach Sethra Lavode.”

  “Not Aliera?”

  “This was before Aliera had, uh, re-emerged. I agree that, now, Aliera would be the obvious person to speak with first.”

  “And so did you speak with Aliera?”

 
; Teldra tilted her head and smiled suddenly. “Why do you remind me so much of an Imperial Inquisitor?”

  “Damn,” I said. “I was aiming for Third Floor Relic.”

  “Who?”

  “Ah ha.”

  “Ah ha?”

  “I’ve just proven that you’re not Sethra Lavode. Did you speak with Aliera?”

  “She’s gone too,” said Teldra.

  “My goodness,” I suggested. “Four days, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “No message, no word, no communication?”

  “No message, no word, no communication.”

  “I see.” I tried to wrap my head around the idea that some­thing might have happened to Morrolan and Aliera. It was hard. They’d always struck me as, for all practical purposes, indestruc­tible. But Teldra had sought me out in the wilderness, and that meant, however unimaginable it might be, something serious had happened.

  I forced my mind back to business. “So when did you make contact with Sethra?”

  “As best I remember, Your Equitableness, it was—”

  “‘Your Equitableness’? Are the Justicers really addressed that way, Teldra?”

  “I thought you’d know.”

  “I never had an advocate, so I’ve never heard the forms used.”

  “Oh. I believe that’s the term.”

  “It sounds silly, doesn’t it? Want more coffee?”

  “Yes, please, Your Equitableness. If you don’t mind my ask­ing, why didn’t you hire an advocate?”

  “Having an advocate makes one look guilty.”

  “But the Orb—”

  “The Orb is an awfully literal-minded thing, Teldra. They asked their questions, and I answered, and they looked at the Orb, and then they let me go. And, speaking of questions, I think I’d just asked one.”

  “Very well, Your Equitableness.”

  I sighed. “Okay, I get the point. I’ll just let you tell it.”

  “After we get more coffee. If I were a Justicer, I’d require you to find a place that served klava.”

  I signaled the hostess for coffee, which was supplied with oppressive good cheer.

  Presently, Teldra said, “Morrolan and Aliera were gone, and with no message. I tried for psychic contact with each of them, and failed. After a day, I spoke with various people in the Cas­tle—Fentor, whom you know—”

  “Yes.”

  “And Surill, whom I believe you have not met.”

  “Correct. Who is he?”

  “She. She currently leads Morrolan’s circle of witches.”

  I had heard that Morrolan had such a circle, though he rarely spoke of them and I never asked.

  “They were unable to help, though Surill said she had tried to reach Morrolan through her own means as well. So I sent a messenger to Dzur Mountain, to Sethra Lavode.”

  “A messenger? Why?”

  “To get her a message.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t know her well enough for direct contact, Vlad. Not everyone does, you know.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling sheepish.

  “She sent a message back asking me to visit her at Dzur Mountain, so I did.”

  “Oh, yeah? How’s the old place holding up?”

  Teldra gave me a look. “We had a long talk. Sethra ex­plained to me about Phoenix Stone, gold and black, and the blocking of psychic contact. She also, in my opinion, seemed worried.”

  “To paraphrase Seapur,” I put in, “if Sethra’s scared, then I’m scared.”

  “Yes,” said Teldra. “Your name came up.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “In connection with gold and black Phoenix Stone.”

  I fingered the cords I wore around my neck, which had a sample of each. “Yes,” I said. Then, “What if they’re already dead?”

  “They aren’t.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “The Necromancer.”

  “Ah. Yes. Well. She’d know, wouldn’t she?”

  “Sethra believes you can help find them.”

  “Did she say how?”

  “Not exactly. She mentioned something about Aliera’s Great Weapon, Pathfinder, and some sort of link between it and some artifact you carry.”

  “Spellbreaker,” I said.

  “She didn’t give it a name.”

  “That’s the name,” I said. “What does she want me to do?”

  “Return with me to Dzur Mountain.” I drank some coffee.

  “Boss, it isn’t the same as returning to Adrilankha.”

  “I know that, Loiosh.”

  “If you’ll be safe anywhere—”

  “I know, Loiosh.”

  “And if there’s anyone you owe—”

  “I know, Loiosh.”

  “Sethra thinks I can help?”

  “She does.”

  “And she thinks Morrolan and Aliera might be in trouble?”

  “She thinks it probable.”

  I considered a little longer. Teldra was courteously silent. Exactly why I had to consider, I don’t know; certainly the idea of returning to any of my old haunts, when the Jhereg had a large price on my head, was scary; but there was never any doubt about how I would decide. I guess I just needed a few minutes to work it through my viscera.

  I had just about decided when Teldra said, “Vlad, it would be wrong of me to put unfair pressure on you, but—”

  “Oh, go ahead, Teldra. What is it?”‘

  “Do you remember Sethra’s servant?”

  “Tukko. Yes.”

  “He knows how to brew klava.”

  “He does? Verra! What are we hanging around here for?”

  “I’ll pay the shot,” she offered politely.

  2

  Being a Good Listener

  This is, I suppose, as good a time as any to tell you a little bit about myself. I was born human in a world of Dragaerans, an outcast in their Empire, so I learned how to get paid for killing them. Small, weak, and short-lived by their standards, I learned how to seem larger, stronger, and to stay alive. I became a part of a vast criminal domain within the Empire; got married, had my marriage fall apart, and so angered the Organization that, as I said earlier, they were now avidly hunting for me.

  That’s enough for now; it’s too depressing to dwell on. Be­sides, I didn’t have much time to think about it, because soon we had walked beyond the edge of Appertown, and Teldra said, “If you would remove the Phoenix Stone, can you be teleported? That is, if it is still on your person?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I keep a small box with me that I can put them in. It’s made of—never mind. As long as the stones are in the box, they have no effect.”

  “Then, if you please, do so.”

  I swallowed. I had no reason not to trust Teldra—I did trust Teldra. But it still wasn’t easy to bring myself to remove the artifacts that had protected and hidden me for the last few years. While I was hesitating, she was standing, motionless, with the air of one who expected to be waiting for a long time and had no trouble doing so.

  I removed the cord from around my neck and secreted it away. The instant I closed the box, I felt horribly vulnerable. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck, and I kept slipping into Loiosh’s mind to see, through him, if I smelled anything suspicious in the area.

  “Relax, Boss. Even if they detect you instantly, they can’t—”

  “I know.”

  “I apologize,” said Teldra, “for the discomfort of the teleport.”

  I didn’t say anything. In fact, thanks to an amulet I had of my grandfather, there would be no discomfort; were I an Issola, I’d have told her. But then, were I an Issola, I wouldn’t be in this situation.

  Teldra closed her eyes. Her lips began to move soundlessly, which is something some people do when in psychic contact; presumably she was in touch with Sethra, but I couldn’t ask without interrupting her, and that, of course, would be rude. Presently her eyes opened. She nodded to me, accompanying the nod wit
h a gracious smile, and beckoned. I took a step closer to her; there was a moment of disorientation, and I stood in a place I had thought never to see again: the Grand Hall of Sethra’s Keep high in. Dzur Mountain.

  I’ve heard it said, “By his home shall you know him,” and we all know that we must pay attention to anyone who reverses the subject and the auxiliary verb in his sentence, so let me tell you a bit about the home of Sethra Lavode. A bit is all I can tell you, because I don’t know Dzur Mountain all that well. For example, I can’t tell you how far down into the mountain her dwelling extends. I’ve been told that the mountain is riddled with natural caves, caverns, and tunnels, and that some of these connect to the areas she has carved out for herself.

  One of these was where I had first appeared, long ago, in the company of Morrolan. It had seemed then that I was deep in the heart of the mountain and had to climb a long stone stairway to its peak; I have since learned that I was close to the top, and that when I emerged in Sethra’s living area we were hardly closer: Dzur Mountain is very, very big.

  She had a library, but somehow I had never gotten around to inspecting it, so I can’t tell you what she reads. On one side of the library are a few well if plainly furnished guest rooms, some of which I have used from time to time; on the other is a wide spiral stairway that leads up to the kitchen, or down to a hallway from which one can reach one of three dining rooms of various sizes, two of which I’d eaten in, and the third of which, the Grand Hall, I stood in now; a sitting room where I’d once insulted Sethra (an insult stopping just smoke’s weight short of mortal); and two doors that go I know not where. At the end of the corridor is another spiral stairway: I don’t know where this one leads to going down, or how it goes up, because it seems to me that it should lead directly up into the middle of the library, but there isn’t a stairway there.

  There is little decoration. It is as if, over the millennia, she had lost patience for anything that attempted to brighten what was naturally dark, ornament what was naturally plain, enliven what was naturally severe. There were no bright colors in Dzur Mountain, yet nothing was rough; rather everything was sub­dued but smooth, as if her home were a monument to the effects of time. Her furnishings were all simple and comfortable, with cushions on hard stone chairs and light provided mostly by sim­ple oil lamps or candles. There was little to show her history; or, indeed, that she had a history—that is, her home was no­ticeably lacking in those oddities one picks up over the years as gifts from friends, or objects acquired from traveling, or trophies won from enemies. The one thing of that kind was in the library, where there was a device covered in glass, with spinning metal inside. I had asked her about it, but Sethra denied knowing what it actually was and refused to say how she had acquired it or why she valued it. Other than that, as I say, there was nothing to which one could point and say, “Sethra Lavode has this ob­ject because it means something to her.”