Hawk (Vlad) (25 page)

“You said if it works.”

“Yeah.”

“What if it doesn’t.”

I didn’t answer.

“Oh,” she said.

“Like I said, I think I have a good shot.”

“And you need the ensorcelled euphonium?”

I nodded.

“For something mysterious and arcane.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you couldn’t perform magic with that amulet on.”

“I’m taking it off.”

“Is that safe?”

“No. But I’ve reason to think I’ll be able to get away with it.”

“I hate it when you’re mysterious. It means you don’t want to tell me the details because I’ll know how idiotic it is.”

I tried to keep my face inscrutable. I didn’t do well. She studied me carefully, then said, “All right.”

“Have you heard from the Teckla boy?”

“Last month. He’s still improving. He’s able to do his chores, and some of his lessons, and he even talks a little around the dinner table sometimes.”

“Good.”

“Maybe, if this works, we could visit him.”

“Because I’m so well-loved around Smallcliff?”

She smiled. “We’ll see.”

I cast my mind back to that time in that little village. It’s strange. I know I was almost killed. I know that it took everything I had, plus a lot of luck, to get out of that mess. But somehow, looking back, I couldn’t understand how I could have even been worried about it. It’s like everything then was so easy, so simple. Someone wanted me dead, I had to fight him. I did. I lived. Simple. I know that isn’t true; it’s the sort of trick your mind plays on you in retrospect. But it sure seemed like it.

“Vlad? What is it?”

“Yes. If we can manage it, after I’ve had some time to catch up with my son, I’d very much enjoy going back to Smallcliff.”

She smiled. “It’s a plan then.”

“Boss?”

“Yeah?”

“You told her you were going to remove the amulet.”

“Yeah.”

“You told Daymar you weren’t.”

“Yeah.”

“Which time were you lying?”

“Maybe both.”

“I hate it when you try to sound mysterious,”
he said.

“That’s not the only reason I do it, you know.”

“I’m reassured.”

By now, Sara knew me well enough to recognize the signs of a conversation with Loiosh she wasn’t privy to. She smirked a little, then turned serious and said, “What can I do to help?”

“The euphonium is a great help.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Um. I thought it did that by itself.”

“Mostly. But the more you can play it, the more—”

“I can’t play at all, Sara.”

“I can show you how to hold it, at least. That will help.”

I nodded. “Good. Everything I can do that will—yeah, you know.”

She nodded. “Open it up.”

I managed that part. It was shiny and made of brass and looked like a thick tube twisted around and around itself, with knobs here and there. It was the sort of thing that looked like there couldn’t possibly be a comfortable way to hold it. It wasn’t as heavy as it looked.

“Pick it up,” she said. “Hold it in your lap. Let me—”

She stood up, walked behind my chair, and adjusted it in my lap.

“That’s rather distracting,” I said.

“Work on concentration.”

“Um, yeah.”

“No, more like this. Your mouth goes there. And your right hand there. No, turn your wrist more, like that. Try pressing down on the valves.”

“That isn’t comfortable.”

“It isn’t supposed to be.”

“And it is very distracting.”

“Think about the discomfort. This arm holds the instrument in place, and your fingers rest there.”

“Is my missing finger going to be a problem?”

“It’s usually just used for support, so just put the next one through that loop. Yes, that’s right. How did you lose it, anyway?”

“A dzur wanted my hand for a snack and mostly missed.”

“All right. Now, make your mouth do this.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. When you want to play, you don’t just blow into it.…”

The following half an hour was bizarrely irritating and pleasant, but by the end of it, I was making sounds come out of the thing without the help of spells.

They weren’t terribly good sounds, mind you; nothing I’d be inclined to call music. But Sara was very kind about it, and even told me that the weird ache I was feeling below my ears meant I was doing it right. That was sort of a disturbing thought. We spent a little more time on it, so I could at least sometimes hit the right “valves” as she called them. She said that would help with the spell.

“Not bad,” she said.

“You’re a good teacher.”

I thought about trying to kiss her right then, or at least asking her if I could; but things were complicated. For one thing, we were different species and I wasn’t sure how she felt about that—I wasn’t even entirely sure how
I
felt about that. For another, I wasn’t over Cawti, and she knew it. And for another, I might be dead in a day or two. Plenty of time to decide about that sort of thing if there was plenty of time; not very nice if there wasn’t.

Or, I don’t know; maybe I was just worried about being embarrassed if she said no. I put the instrument back in its case, which required a lesson in itself, but let’s not dwell on that.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asked, breaking what was about to become an awkward silence.

I shook my head. “No, this is good.”

“You’ll get hold of me, once this is over?”

“First thing,” I said.

“Thank you,” she said, and stood up. “I should be going.”

I nodded.

“Vlad—” she said, then shook her head and didn’t finish.

“Yeah,” I said. “You’re about to say good luck.”

She gave a sort of smile. “Yes. Good luck.”

She gave me a kiss on the top of my head and walked out of the office.

“Boss.”

“Yeah, I’m over it.”

“I don’t believe you, but all right.”

“Heh.”

“Okay, now what?”

“Now we get a message to the Demon and have him set a time for tomorrow.”

“Then we’re ready?”

“Not really, but we’re going to do it anyway.”

“Tomorrow!”

“Yeah, that’ll be a busy day.”

“We should eat something.”

“I need sleep more than food. But we have to go out again. Dammit. A long walk this time.”

“Important, I take it?”

“Well, everything depends on it, if that’s what you mean.”

“In that case, we really should have food first.”

“Oh, all right. Food first.”

“You know, Boss, I’m not used to doing all these things that make me happy. Getting out from under the Organization, killing Terion, and now food.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you get used to it.”

“This is my surprised wing-flap.”

Deragar was willing to get some food for the mere price of a share in the meal. He retrieved some baked felua in coriander-plum sauce from a place called Jarad’s, because I’d been in a mood for flying things for a while. Loiosh commented on it in terms I don’t feel like telling you about. The food was good, even though Jarad’s was far enough away that it wasn’t quite as hot as it should have been. Deragar also picked up a bottle of Descani, which reminded me of the evening all that time back that, in some sense, had started this. More important, however, was that it was a good wine and treated the felua well. I wondered if Deragar knew more about wine than most Dragaerans, or had just gotten lucky. There was no polite way to ask him, however, so I didn’t.

We ate in companionable silence. Deragar kept watching Loiosh and Rocza eat, but he didn’t say anything about it, and neither did they.

When we’d finished eating and had quite demolished the wine, I gave Deragar a little money, and asked him to buy me a wheelbarrow and some clothing appropriate for a peasant. I also gave him a message for delivery to the Demon; tomorrow would be the day.

Deragar gave me a raised eyebrow that suddenly reminded me of Kragar, and headed out.

I sat in an uncomfortable chair and crossed and re-crossed my legs and stretched and got up and sat down again until he came back. It wasn’t long, maybe half an hour.

“This is bound to be good,” he said.

“Not as exciting as you might think.”

“Can I watch?”

“No, not for this.”

He shrugged, reminding me of Kragar again. “All right.”

“Where’s the barrow?”

“Downstairs.”

“Good.”

“Boss? Why do we need a wheelbarrow?”

“To complete the peasant disguise.”

“Really? That’s all?”

“Really. That’s all.”

“Even though it’s empty?”

“When’s the last time you noticed whether a wheelbarrow was empty?”

“Um. Okay.”

I transformed myself into a lowly peasant Easterner. I’m glad I didn’t have a mirror. I threw some dirt on myself and rubbed it in a bit, just to put the final touches on.

Then I collected Rocza, Loiosh, and Loiosh’s attitude, and the four of us snuck out of the tunnel once more, complete with wheelbarrow. For once I wasn’t too worried about an attack, since no one would imagine I was, you know, me. It’s the sort of thing you can get away with for a while, if you’re willing.

Wheelbarrows are, no doubt, fine machines; but they’re still machines. And as far as I’m concerned, mechanical devices have no reason to exist except to do a bad job of something sorcery can do a good job of. There must be more to it than that, or there wouldn’t be all those mechanical devices. I mean, would there? Yeah, okay, so maybe not everyone is good enough at sorcery to pull it off, or rich enough to pay someone else to. I’ve also heard the argument that some things are just easier and more natural when done the hard way; I’m just not sure I buy it.

If I had had any idea how hard it would be to keep wheeling that thing through the streets of Adrilankha, I might have changed my mind about the whole plan. And when I reflected that Teckla usually had something heavy in one, my opinion of Teckla went up; I made a mental note to tell Cawti that when I could. If I could. The good part was that inside of ten minutes I was as filthy and stinky and sweaty as any peasant, and I felt safer than I had in some time. Though if the choice was to live like this or face soul-death, I’d go for the soul-death. No I wouldn’t. Yes I would. Maybe.

Glad the situation hasn’t come up, though.

Amazing how loud those things are, too.

14

M
AKING
M
USIC
OR
M
AKING
B
ARGAINS

After trudging along Lower Kieron for longer than I want to remember, I was in an area where it was both safe and possible to leave the wheelbarrow, so I did and continued on to Kieron.

It was much easier after that, which is just as well because I had to go a long way, which would have been impossibly long if I’d had to push that thing up and down hills. The area went from poor, to affluent, to peasant (which is like poor but with less trash and more space), and then there were a couple of castles off in the distance and one very large single-story building directly in front of us.

I should explain about that building.

I’d found it a short while back, led there by someone I trusted. The details aren’t important. But I’d been inside of it, and had the chance to get to know it pretty well. It was first built by a Vallista named Tethia as, so she told me, “an experiment,” which is what people say when they do something that makes everyone laugh at them. There’s a story there, too.

It was big, it was empty, and there was a room in it that held a long table and a lot of comfortable chairs. The building was rented out every now and then by groups of merchants or nobles who wanted to solve matters in a less violent way than is usual for the people I know. If you ignore the rest of the structure (and you should if you don’t want your head exploding), that room is pretty comfortable. On the south wall are several large windows of glass that were treated to prevent breakage. The glass looks out over the ocean-sea, just where Kieron’s Watch used to be. It is, in fact, a spectacular view.

It was night when I arrived, and there were no lights to be seen anywhere; the place was empty. It was usually empty. If it hadn’t been deserted this time around, I’m not sure what I’d have done—left town? killed everyone in it? sat down and cried? That had been one of the few things I had to trust to luck on; and so far, luck was with me.

Time to get to work.

There were enough wards and spells and devices on the doors and windows of the place that breaking in would have been a major enterprise. I could have done it, especially with Kiera’s help, but there was no need.

“Anything, Loiosh?”

“No one anywhere near, Boss. You’re good.”

“All right.”

“What if your memory is off? I mean, what if you don’t recall the inside as well as you think you do?”

“I’m going to look first, Loiosh. As in, look inside. Through the windows. Glass windows. They work both ways, you know. Glass. It’s this thing invented by people with oppos—”

“Shut up, Boss.”

We went around to the side of the building, my back to the ocean-sea far below me; I could smell it, and hear the waves crashing on Kieron’s Rocks. I looked through the window, did a quick calculation, then did it again to be sure, and made a note of the spot.

“You know this is crazy, right, Boss?”

“Not if it works.”

Glass windows are a sign of wealth. Not so much because they’re expensive—a good sorcerer with access to sand can, I’m told, create any size and shape window with a bit of time and effort—but because they
break.
That’s what glass does. And then you have to replace them. And after a few times, the cost starts building up, so you have to not care.