Hawk (Vlad) (17 page)

“Sort of. To come up with an idea and make him think he thought of it.”

Daymar looked intrigued. “I think I can do that. Who is it you want it done to?”

I reached in my pocket and handed him the handkerchief I’d stolen from the Demon’s desk. He studied it. “What idea do you want him to have?”

“There’s a building right at the point where Kieron’s Watch used to be. It would be the perfect place for him to meet me. Think you can suggest that without alerting him?”

Daymar looked directly at me. “Vlad, I think I can do it, but I’m not sure. I’d really appreciate it if you’d let me try. This is, well, this is exciting.”

I
did
kind of owe him.

“Of course,” I said.

About two minutes later, Daymar went out the way he’d come in: walking, just like a normal person. I wondered if that annoyed him. I hoped it did, at least a little. Yeah, I’m a bad man.

“All right,”
I told Loiosh.
“Let’s assume it worked. Time to visit the jeweler.”

I declined the offer of an escort, and took the tunnel. I made sure my rapier was loose, and checked a couple of the unsurprising surprises I keep around me, then waited just a bit longer to let my eyes adjust. Loiosh and Rocza flew out, reported that everything looked all right, and I stepped out once more onto the busy, dirty, terrifying streets of Adrilankha. I cut across a street, down an alley, then left, then right a good distance, and stepped into a storefront shop in the middle of a row of cheap yellow brick rooming houses.

Athek is and always has been a dealer in high-end stolen merchandise, especially jewelry. I know it, the Empire knows it, and I’m sure the dirty kids playing bones-and-muffins on the street outside know it. And he knows me; Kiera introduced us years ago. He wasn’t her favorite fence, but he was close to my office. Which was not, in fact, why I was there today.

“Lord Taltos,” he said, looking nervous enough to confirm that he knew I was marked for a shine. He was a Jhegaala, with a full head of white hair and a permanent squint.

“Close up,” I told him.

He nodded nervously, and walked around the counter to the door, locked it, and went back to the counter, sort of edging past me as if I were a poisonous reptile. Of course, I did have a couple of poisonous reptiles on my shoulders, which might have had something to do with it.

“My lord?” he said.

“I need a plain unadorned, platinum ring.”

“Yes, my lord. I have—”

“No, I need a particular one,” I told him, and watched his expression carefully.

*   *   *

On the third floor of the Imperial Wing of the Palace is a dusty room in which, by tradition, ancient Imperial relics are stored. Three doors lead out of it. One is the hall; one is a closet where janitor’s tools are stored; the other is to the tiny room where, once a year, the Master of Upper Repositories spreads out the paperwork that corresponds to the relics, and makes sure that it does, in fact, correspond to the relics on hand.

The rest of the time, that room is used by a small group of Imperial operatives. The leader—whose identity is kept strictly secret—reports directly to Her Majesty. The group carries no identification, except that each wears a simple, unadorned platinum ring on the middle finger of his left hand.

The rings have no special magic on them except for a unique, imprinted identification mark. The spell was designed and each ring treated personally by Kosadr. According to the best arcane knowledge, there is no way to duplicate this spell. When I first learned about them—that’s its own story—I asked Sethra, and even she agreed. I don’t know about you, but
I
find that convincing.

On the first Homeday of the month of the Vallista in the two hundred and fifty-first year of the reign of Zerika the Fourth, Lord Bristoe-Camfor, House of the Dzur, of the Third Floor Relic group, was found dead behind a pawnshop a mile and a half from the Imperial Palace. A dagger had been driven up under his chin into his brain. Other than the wound, he had not been disturbed, except that his ring was missing.

Third Floor Relic carried on its own investigation, as did the Special Tasks group (commanded by a guy nicknamed “Papa Cat,” an old acquaintance who didn’t like me much). As usual with such matters, each group was more worried about the other group finding it than they were about not finding it themselves. It took several weeks, but the trail being followed by Third Floor Relic eventually led to the Jhereg owner of the pawnshop. Fittra of Third Floor Relic knew that it was unheard-of for a Jhereg to knowingly kill an Imperial operative. Furthermore, no Jhereg would ever let a body be found near his own place of business if he had anything to do with it. All of which, taken together, meant that something else was going on. Meanwhile, at this same time, Special Tasks bowed out of the investigation.

Maybe the Jhereg hadn’t known he was an Imperial operative. Maybe someone else had arranged the whole thing, using the Jhereg as a tool. Maybe.

But when one of their own is killed, the Empire is not fussy about who gets hurt during the investigation. In this case, a lot of people were hurt, starting with the owner of the pawnshop.

Eventually Third Floor Relic got its answer: Bristoe-Camfor’s future brother-in-law killed him in a dispute over table settings for his sister’s upcoming wedding. The ring, they assumed, had been taken from the body by a passing stranger, and there was nothing to be done except wait and hope that it would turn up somewhere.

Now, here’s what really happened: The business with the Dzurlord’s future brother-in-law was nonsense. The murder and robbery had, in fact, been planned and executed by a Jhereg—one of the very rare instances of the Organization killing any Imperial representative of any kind. There were personal motives involved, and special circumstances that I won’t go into, and, though some years ago I did learn of the whole thing, there were a lot of details I never discovered, such as exactly how they managed to conceal it from the Empire.

I learned about it at all because I know Kiera, and Kiera knows everything. The point is, the ring had vanished, and, while the Jhereg were happy to have it remain missing, it didn’t matter, because no one knew where it was.

Well, not
no
one.

*   *   *

He turned a little pale. “I—”

“Careful, Athek. If you lie, I’ll be unhappy.”

He swallowed, and shut up. He looked like he had no intention of speaking. Ever again.

“Obviously,” I said, “you know which ring I’m talking about.”

He nodded.

“And obviously,” I went on, “since everyone knows it’s on the waves, you have some idea which wave it’s on.”

He hesitated, then nodded again.

“And for one last obvious statement, you have a reason for not wanting me to have it. Perhaps, if you tell me what that reason is, we can work something out.”

I gave him my warmest, friendliest smile.

“My lord,” he said, which was respectful but not responsive.

“Go on,” I suggested.

He seemed incapable.

I said, “Did someone tell you not to give it to me?”

He shook his head.

“Did someone tell you to keep it hidden?”

He shook his head again.

“Go ahead, Boss. Ask him if it’s physical, magical, or spiritual.”

“Shut up, Loiosh.”

“Is it being held by someone you’re afraid of?”

He nodded.

“Yes for a copper.”

“Shut
up,
Loiosh.”

“Is it a Jhereg?”

He nodded again.

“Yes for two—”

“Loiosh!”

My next question was, “Does this Jhereg scare you more than I do?”

He had to consider that. It took him some time. I started to feel a bit jealous.

“No,” he said at last.

“So, who has it?”

He clamped his mouth shut, as if daring me to pry it open. I considered doing just that.

I had to decide carefully what to do next. Putting too much pressure on Athek would piss people off; but, to the left, how much more could they do to me than they wanted to already? I thought it over, while he stood there, waiting to see what I’d do.

I knew very well that mere possession of the thing was a capital crime. So did he, and, maybe, so did the person who had it. I know you’re asking yourself why, if the thing was so dangerous, and if Athek knew who had it, did whoever it was let Athek live? I asked myself the same question. I mean, it’s true: You don’t go around casually shining people like him—they always have protection or they wouldn’t be in business. But still, this was a dangerous secret.

Unless the guy who had it didn’t know Athek knew he had it.

Yeah, that would account for everything. Well, for him not wanting to tell me and him still being above the Falls, at least. So, someone who might have it, someone scary, someone Athek would know had it, someone who didn’t know Athek knew he had it.…

“So,” I said. “The Left Hand of the Jhereg puts in an appearance, does it?”

He didn’t answer; but the look on his face was answer enough.

Yeah, had to be the Left Hand: the sorceresses. They wouldn’t know how Athek operated, about his contacts among all things jewelry-related. They’d see him as merely a corrupt merchant. And he, of course, would be terrified of his own knowledge—afraid someone would let it be known that he had information that could get him killed.

And here I was, right on schedule.

“Who in the Left Hand?” I said. “Now that I know, you might as well—”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“How did you find it?”

“The Imperials questioned me, made me look for it.”

“Sorcery?”

He nodded. “I have a thing for jewelry. I can find it when no one else in town can. I could find a—”

“Yeah, I know. So you found it?”

“I found it. Got a face and a location. I didn’t get a name, but I recognized her as Left Hand.”

“Then why didn’t you tell the Imperials?”

“It didn’t seem safe.” He sniffed. “And besides, I didn’t like how they asked me.”

I nodded. You don’t survive as a cleaner for the Jhereg if you’re weak.

“I can’t protect you from the Left Hand,” I said.

“I know.”

“But they can’t protect you from me, either.”

He considered that for what seemed a very long time. I let him think. At last he said, “All right. Make me an offer.”

“Twenty.”

“Thirty.”

“Done.”

I passed him over enough money to keep a family eating well for several months, and he said, “Unless they’ve moved it, it’s in the back room of an inn at the very end of Western, in the false back of a three-shelf bookcase.”

Well, that ought to be precise enough. “Any traps or wardings on the false back?”

“None that I saw, but I wouldn’t recognize any.”

“Yeah, all right.”

Loiosh and Rocza checked the street, and I went back out there and down the street to the tunnel into Kragar’s office, where I found Deragar hanging around.

“Need something?” he said.

“There’s an inn at the tail end of Western.”

He nodded. “Black Rose,” he said. “It’s a Left Hand place.”

“Yes,” I said. “Can you check it out for me?”

“What do you want checked?”

“How hard would it be to get me a minute alone in the back office?”

He nodded. “There’s going to be sorcery.”

I fished out my purse and handed him fifteen gold imperials. “That’ll do it,” he said. “Should I have some food sent in before I go?”

“That’d be great.”

“See you soon, then.”

Half an hour later there was ginger-roasted kethna, wine, and Forbidden Forest soup, and I was feeling fairly good about life.

“So, you trust this guy, Boss?”

“You think I’ve been poisoned? I feel fine.”

“Oh, now is a good time to ask.”

“Kragar trusts him.”

A couple of hours later Deragar was back. “You get it?” I asked him.

“When it’s open or closed?” were the first words out of his mouth.

“Whichever is easier.”

“Open, then. That gets rid of everything at the entrances and windows, and eliminates the passive sorcery detection.”

I nodded. “I’m listening.”

He unrolled a piece of paper, and held it spread open on the table in front of me. It had a detailed drawing of what I assumed was the inside of the Black Rose. “The two Xs are sorceresses, keeping a watch on the office door at all times. There’s no window into the office, so the front and back doors are your only way in. The back door is locked and sealed—sorcerous seal and alarms—except for deliveries and special requests.”

“Two sorceresses,” I said. “Are you sure you didn’t miss one?”

He looked at me.

“Good answer,” I said. “All right, go on.”

“The door into the office has what’s called a Ferni Seal. A Ferni Seal—”

“I’m familiar with it,” I said. It was serious security.

He nodded. “Also, the knob on the door has a ten-candle alarm tied to a bell in the bar, and something inside the office; obviously, my sorcerer couldn’t tell what.”

“Right. Understood.”

“That’s it,” he said.

“That’s plenty,” I said. “Good work.”

He nodded. “Any kethna left?”

“Help yourself.”

He did, while I tried to figure out a way in. The sorcery was no problem—I had a Great Weapon called Lady Teldra, which meant I still had, albeit in a different form, what had once been a gold chain I’d called Spellbreaker. The trouble was the sorceresses. They weren’t going to just stand there while I walked into the office to look around; not to mention whoever worked in that office.

“You’re sure open is easier?” I said after a while.

He swallowed a mouthful of kethna and wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “Two more in the office, one more in the bar, plus more sorcery.”

Plus the fact that even walking in would be a signal to start the mayhem. I could maybe take them all out, but right now was not when I wanted the Left Hand after me as well as the Right. “Yeah, okay,” I said.