Teckla (7 page)

"But none of that has anything to do with Cawti. We don't even live around here."

He shook his head and tsked. "It is silliness," he repeated. I said, "What can I do?"

He shrugged. "Your grandmother did things I didn't like, Vladimir. There is nothing to be done. Perhaps she will lose interest." He frowned. "No, that is unlikely. Cawti does not lose interest when she becomes interested. But there, it is her life, not yours."

"But Noish-pa, that's just it. It's her life. Someone killed this Franz, and now Cawti is doing just what he was doing. If she wants to run around with these people and stir up trouble, or whatever they're doing, that's fine, but if she were killed, I couldn't stand it. But I can't stop her, or she'll leave me."

He frowned again and nodded. "Have you tried things?"

"Yes. I tried talking to Kelly, but that didn't do anything."

"Do you know who it was who killed this Franz fellow?"

"Yeah, I know who."

"And why?"

I paused. "No, I don't really know that."

"Then you must find out. Perhaps you will find that there is nothing to worry about, after all. If there is, perhaps you will find a way to solve it without risk to your wife."

Your wife he said. Not Cawti this time, it was your wife. That was how he thought. Family. Everything was family, and we were all the family he had. It suddenly occurred to me that he was probably disappointed in me; I don't think he approved of assassins, but I was family so that was that.

"What do you think of my work, Noish-pa?"

He shook his head. "It is terrible, what you do. It is not good for a man to live by killing. It hurts you."

"Okay." I was sorry I had asked. I said, "Thank you, Noish-pa. I have to go now."

"It was good to see you again, Vladimir."

I hugged him, collected Loiosh, and walked out of his shop. The way back to my side of town was long, and I still didn't feel like teleporting. When Cawti came home that evening, I was soaking my feet.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"My feet hurt."

She gave me a half-smile. "Somehow this doesn't surprise me. I mean, why do your feet hurt?"

"I've been walking a lot the last few days." She sat down across from me and stretched out. She was wearing highwaisted gray slacks with a wide black belt, a gray jerkin and a black vest. She'd hung up her half-cloak. "Anywhere in particular?"

"The Easterners' section, mostly."

She turned her head to the side a bit, which was one of my favorite things to see her do. It made her eyes seem huge in that beautiful, thin face with her perfectly sculpted cheekbones. "Doing what?"

"I went in to see Kelly."

Her eyes widened. "Why?"

"I explained that he should make sure you weren't doing anything that might put you in danger. I implied that I'd kill him if he did." The look of curiosity changed to disbelief, then anger. "Did you really," she said.

"Yeah."

"You don't seem nervous about telling me about it."

"Thank you."

"And what did Kelly say?"

"He said that, as a human being, I rated somewhere between worthless scum and wretched garbage."

She looked startled. Not upset, startled. "He said that?"

"Not in so many words. Quite."

"Hmmm," she said.

"I'm glad to see that this outrage against your husband fills you with such a righteous indignation."

"Hmmm, "she said.

"Trying to decide if he was right?"

"Oh, no," she said. "I know he's right. I was wondering how he could tell."

"Cawti—" I said, and stopped because my voice broke. She came over, sat beside me, and put her hand on my leg. "I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean that and I shouldn't have joked about it. I know he's wrong. But you shouldn't have done what you did."

"I know," I said, almost whispering.

We were silent for a time. She said, "What are you going to do now?"

"I think," I said, "that I'm going to wait until my feet feel better. Then I'm going to go out and kill someone."

She stared at me. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. No. I'm not sure. Half, I guess."

"This is hard for you. I'm sorry."

I nodded.

She said, "It's going to get harder."

"Yeah."

"I wish I could help you."

"You have. You'd do more if you could."

She nodded. After that there wasn't any more to say, so she just sat next to me for a while. Presently, we went into the bedroom and slept. I was in the office early the next morning, with Loiosh and Rocza, I let them out my window so Loiosh could continue showing Rocza around. He had gradually been teaching her the ins and outs of the city. He enjoyed it, too. I wondered what that would do to a marriage—one having to train the other. With those two it could become strained, too—Loiosh did the teaching, but the jhereg female is dominant.

"Hey, Loiosh—"

"None of your Verra-be-damned business, boss." That was hardly fair; he'd been butting into my marriage. Besides, I had a right to know if I was going to be subjected to more cheap North Hill theater than what I was generating. But I didn't push it. By the time they returned, a couple of hours later, I knew what I was going to do. I got an address from Kragar, along with a dirty look for not telling him why I wanted it. Loiosh and Rocza attached themselves to my shoulders and I went down the stairs and out of the office. Lower Kieron Road, near Malak Circle, is the widest street in this part of town and is filled with inns set back from it and markets jutting out into it and hotels, some with small businesses inside of them. I owned all the small businesses. Lower Kieron took me south and west. It got gradually narrower, and more and more tenements appeared. Most of them had once been green but were now painted dirty, I abandoned Lower Kieron to follow a narrow little street called Ulor.

Ulor widened after a bit, and about there I turned onto Copper Street, which was different from the Copper Lane near my place, or the Copper Street to the east or the Copper Street even further east or the others that I don't remember. After a few paces, I turned left into a fairly nice looking inn with long tables of polished wood and long benches. I found the host and said, "Do you have a private room?" He allowed as to how he did, although his look implied it wasn't normally polluted by the presence of Easterners. I said, "My name is Vlad. Tell Bajinok that I'm here."

He nodded and called for a serving man to carry the message. I spotted where the back room must be and entered it. It was empty. I was pleased that it had a real door. I closed it and sat, back to the door (Loiosh was watching), on one of the benches at a table that was a shorter version of the ones in the main room. I wondered how many people Bajinok would bring along. If it was more than one, this probably wouldn't work. But then, he might not bring anyone. I decided I had pretty good odds. Presently, the door opened and Bajinok came in along with another Jhereg I hadn't seen before. I stood up before they could sit down.

"Good morning," I said. "I hope I didn't disturb you." Bajinok scowled a little. "What?" he said.

"A man of few words," I told him. "I like that." Loiosh hissed, which he might have thought was agreement.

"What do you want?"

"I thought we might continue our discussion of the other day." The Jhereg who was with Bajinok rolled his shoulders and scratched his stomach. Bajinok wiped his hands on his cloak. I checked the clasp of my cloak with one hand and brushed my hair back with the other. I didn't know about them, but all of my weapons were ready.

He said, "If you have something to say, say it."

"I want to know why Herth wanted that Easterner killed." Bajinok said, "Drop dead, whiskers."

I gestured with my right hand as if I were about to say something important. I suppose in a way I was. The gesture produced a dagger that went straight up under the unknown's chin and into his head. He crumbled, fell against me and slid to the floor. By the time he hit, I had taken another dagger from my cloak and was holding the point of it directly in front of Bajinok's left eye.

I said, "The instant anyone appears in this room, or opens the door, or you even look like you're in psionic communication with someone, I'm going to kill you."

He said, "Okay."

"I thought you might want to tell me a few things about Herth and why he wanted that Easterner killed."

Without moving his head, he glanced down at the corpse. Then he looked back up the blade of the dagger. "You know," he said, "I just might at that."

"Good," I said cheerfully.

"Mind if I sit down?"

"No. Go ahead."

He did, and I moved behind him and held my blade against the back of his neck. He said, "This is going to get you killed, you know."

"We all have to die sometime. And we Easterners don't live that long anyway. Of course, that's a good reason not to rush things, I suppose. Which brings us back to Franz." I increased the pressure against the back of his neck. I felt him flinch. I stayed alert for any attempt to teleport out. I could kill him before he was gone if I was quick. He said, "Yes. Franz. He was a member of some kind of group—"

"I know about it."

"Okay. Then there isn't much more I can tell you." I pressed the knife against his neck again. "Try. Were you told to kill him in particular, or just some member of the group?"

"I was given his name."

"Have you been keeping tabs on what these people have been doing?"

"Herthhas."

"I know that, idiot. I mean, are you the one who's been watching them?"

"No."

"Who is?"

"A fellow named Nath."

"Where can I find him?"

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Not if you keep talking."

"He lives above a carpetmaker way to the west, just north of the Easterners' area. Number four Shade Tree Street." I said, "Okay. Do you plan to tell Herth about this talk?"

"Yes."

"You'll have to tell him what you told me."

"He's very understanding that way."

"In that case, I need a good reason for leaving you alive."

"You said you would."

"Yes, that is a good reason. I need another one."

"You're a dead man, you know."

"I know."

"A dishonest dead man."

"I'm just in a bad mood. I'm usually a very honest dead man. Ask anyone."

"Okay. I'll keep my mouth shut for an hour."

"Would you keep your word to someone who lied to you?" He considered that for a moment, then said, "Yes."

"Berth must be a very understanding fellow."

"Yes. Except when his people are killed. He doesn't understand that at all."

I said, "Okay. You can leave."

He stood up without another word and walked out. I replaced my dagger, left the one in the body and walked back out into the main room. The host didn't give me a second glance. I made it onto the street and headed back toward my office. I could feel Loiosh's tension as he strained to look into every corner of every alley we passed.

"You shouldn't have killed that guy, boss."

"If I hadn't, Bajinok wouldn't have taken me seriously. And I'm not certain I could have controlled two of them."

"Herth will be after your head now."

"Yes…"

"You can't help Cawti if you're dead."

"I know."

"Then why—"

"Shut up."

Even I didn't think that was much of an answer.

…klava stain from upper left…

I teleported to a place I knew in Nath's neighborhood, so I wouldn't have to waste any of Bajinok's hour. Then I wasted a good fifteen minutes white my stomach recovered from the teleport.

Shade Tree Street must have been an old name. There were a few stumps in the ground to the sides, and the hotels and houses were set back quite a ways from the crude stonework curbing on either edge of the street itself, which was as wide as Lower Kieron. The width indicated that the area had once had a lot of shops and markets, and that later it had been one of the better sections of town. That was probably before the Interregnum, however. Now it was a little on the low side. Number four was right in the middle, between number fifteen and number six. It was of brown stonework, two stories tall, with two flats in it. The one on the bottom had a chreotha crudely drawn on the door. I went up the wooden steps and they didn't creak at all. I was impressed. The door at the top had a stylized jhereg on it, etched on a metal plate above the symbol for Baron. "Was I quiet enough, Loiosh?"

"I think so, boss."

"Okay."

I checked the spells on the door, then checked them a second time. I'm a lot sloppier when I'm not actually about to kill someone, but there's no reason to be too sloppy. The door held no surprises. The wood itself was thin enough that I could handle it. I let Spellbreaker fall into my left hand, took a couple of careful breaths, then smacked the door with Spellbreaker and, at the same time, kicked with my right leg. The door flew open and I stepped into the room.

He was alone. That meant it was likely that Bajinok had actually kept his word. He was sitting on a low couch, reading the same tabloid that Cawti had been reading. I kicked the door shut behind me and crossed to him in three steps, drawing my rapier as I did so. He stood up and stared at me, wide-eyed. He made no effort to reach for a weapon. It was possible he wasn't a fighter, but it would be stupid to count on it. I held the point of my weapon up to his left eye and said, "Good afternoon. You must be Nath."

He stared at me, his eyes wide, holding his breath.

I said, "Well?"

He nodded.

I gave him the same speech I'd given Bajinok about not leaving or trying to reach help. He seemed to find it convincing. I said, "Let's sit down and chat."

He nodded again. He was either very frightened or a good actor. I said,

"An Easterner named Franz was killed a few days ago." He nodded.

I said, "Herth had it done."

He nodded again.

I said, "You pointed him out to Herth."

His eyes widened and he half-shook his head.

I said, "Yes. Why?"

"I didn't—"