1 INTRODUCTIONS
Most marriages among my people, Easterners, start when you meet someone you’re attracted to. I mention that because among the Dragaerans, or at least the high nobility, it usually starts with families arranging things. Sometimes, like with the House of the Phoenix, they arrange for their great-great-grandchildren who don’t exist yet to marry each other if the omens are right, or something like that. Not sure how that works, but it isn’t my concern.
I also wonder, since they live so much longer than we do, if that makes a difference in how they think about marriage. I’d guess it does, but I don’t know in what ways.
Funny thing I’ve noticed, by the way: anytime marriages are arranged, it’s like, between a man and a woman, but among Easterners, and with the Houses where people pick for themselves, you get men marrying men and women marrying women or whatever. You can think about that if it’s worth the bother. Me, I’ve always kind of liked girls. Like Cawti.
I met her on a warm, pleasant day with a nice breeze flowing in from the ocean-sea when she killed me. Nothing personal, she’d been paid. And I got better, didn’t I? Death is only permanent if you’re unlucky, which makes it the opposite of marriage. But, anyway, that’s how we met, and then we hung around together for a while, and we got along pretty good. I mean, that isn’t all it takes, but it’s a good start, isn’t it?
Also, I discovered that she was a kind of amazing kisser, and that never hurts. So we started spending time together, and we found out we both liked to cook. If you get along when it comes to kissing, cooking, and killing, there’s a good chance everything else will fall into place, right?
* * *
There are problems that just can’t be solved by sticking something pointy into someone. I try to stay away from those kinds of problems, because they get complicated, and I don’t like complicated. I’m a simple guy. Ask anyone. “That Vlad,” they all say. “He’s a simple guy.”
“Hey Kragar,” I called out to the next room. “I’m a simple guy, right?”
I heard footsteps, and he stuck his head into my office. “What?”
I repeated my question.
His eyebrows did funny Kragar-things, and he came in and sat down across from my desk. “What happened?”
“Why should something have happened?”
He just waited.
I said, “You know that Tsalmoth who went into us for eight and scampered?”
“Bereth. Sure, I put Sticks on it.”
“Yeah, Sticks just got back to me.”
“And he found him, and got the money, and broke his legs, and everything is fine now, right?”
“Heh,” I explained. “Someone killed the son of a bitch.”
“Need an address to send flowers?”
“No, I need a way to get my Verra-be-damned money.”
“Hmmm. Tricky.”
“I know,” I said. “Tricky. And I’m a simple guy.”
“Can he be revivified? We could add the cost on to what he owes us.”
“Sticks says no.”
“In that case, Vlad, I would suggest a clever strategy: write off the money.”
I felt myself scowling.
“It’s not tricky,” he added, with his fake innocent smile.
My familiar, Loiosh, arrived in the window about that time, flew over, and landed on my shoulder.
“What’s going on, Boss?” he said into my mind.
“Nothing, nothing.”
He let it drop.
I said to Kragar—
Wait a minute.
Sethra, Why are you still here? Last time you put me in a room with this box and just left.
Wait, Seriously? You think you can help? But before, you told me—
No, no! I’ll take a maybe. Maybe is good. If you can give me a maybe, I’m happy to tell you the whole mess. Get comfortable. Can I get you some wine?
Right. I won’t count on anything, I’ll just tell it. Only, uh, what happens when you come into it? I mean, do I say, “You did this?” which won’t make sense to whoever is going to listen to this, or do I say, “Sethra did this,” which is dumb with you sitting there?
Oh, yeah, Sethra. It’s so easy to just pretend you don’t exist. Heh.
Okay, okay. Where was I? Right. Talking to Kragar. He’d made that remark about, hey, it’s not tricky. I said to him, “You see, you might not know this, but I don’t like letting money get away. It makes me feel bad.”
“Uh huh,” he said.
“So, come up with something.”
“How,” he said, “did I know this was going to end up on my back?”
“On account of that, what’s it called? Wisdom.”
“Fatalism,” said Kragar.
I shrugged. “Let me know what you get.”
He left, muttering under his breath. I leaned back and closed my eyes. I checked my link with the Imperial Orb and did deep and powerful sorcery, which it was designed for. Just kidding, I usually leave the deep and powerful sorcery to those who are better at it; I used it to find out what time it was, and discovered that I had a couple of hours to wait until it was time to meet Cawti.
“Aw, Boss,” said Loiosh. “Do you know that every time you think about her—”
“You can shut up now,” I said.
While I waited, maybe I should tell you a bit about myself.
Nah, skip it. That’s boring. You’ll figure it out.
There was a street singer not far from my window, singing something in a language I didn’t know—probably one of the classic disused tongues of the early Empire. I hate listening to songs when I don’t know the words.
I still had a few minutes before I felt justified in leaving for the day to meet Cawti when she jumped the bell on me by coming in.
I was up out of the chair in a second, standing there grinning like a Teckla smoking dreamgrass.
Look, I’m telling you what happened, including it all, because that’s what you paid for, so there it is. I probably looked like an idiot with that big grin all over my face, so go ahead and laugh. But if you do, I’ll track you down and break both your kneecaps, got it?
Uh, I didn’t mean you, Sethra. I meant, you know, whoever is going to listen to this.
Right. You aren’t here.
All right, so I kissed her, which is as much as you need to know, and then we went out and did some stuff together. We ate and drank and laughed and all that. It was a good time. I asked about Norathar, her partner, or I guess ex-partner, and they’d been in touch, which was good. Then we had an argument about the best kind of pasta to serve with clams and promised to settle it by each doing our own recipe. Then we went home to her flat. She lives a good distance south of me, in a decent neighborhood where she’s the only Easterner but where you can smell the ocean-sea, which she likes. And her flat, like mine, has its own kitchen. I mean, a real kitchen, with a stove, an oven, a sink with a pump, cupboards, and countertops. So we hung out there, and decided to find a place in South Adrilankha to have the wedding, and then we did what you do when two people can’t keep their hands off each other.
Look, I’m not bragging, I’m just saying how it was, and that feeling that she wanted me was—
Crap, this is hard to talk about with you here, Sethra, and no one’s business anyway.
Back to what matters, I finally got around to telling her about the guy who’d had the nerve to go and die when he owed me money.
“Some people,” she said.
“I know. Thoughtless.”
She stretched like a cat, which made me stupidly proud, as if I’d accomplished something. She put her head on my shoulder and said, “Mmmm. What about his family?”
“Maybe,” I said. “I should find out.”
She wrapped her leg around me and said, “Maybe.” Who can argue with logic like that?
So that’s how I decided to check out the guy’s family. I still don’t think it was that bad an idea, okay? It’s not like I have the Dragon treasury; I need the money. And also, once word gets out that people can get away with not paying you, it’s gonna keep happening, and eventually you get put out of business. You know, in the big steel thing in your neck way of being put out of business. Not my favorite idea. This time, what with the guy dying, chances are no one would have thought anything except bad luck, but I’m still new at this, so I’m not sure and didn’t want to take chances. And I wanted my Verra-be-damned money.
I’m just saying this so you’ll understand.
Oh, I know. Now you’re saying, “He’s going after a bunch of innocents, heartless bastard, blah blah blah.” That’s not how it is, that’s not how it was ever going to be. I wanted to see if there was a way to do it clean and easy. I was not going to walk in and start making threats or doing violence to his kids or his grandparents or whatever. For one thing, well, maybe for the only thing, as soon as you cross that line and start messing with families, or with people who aren’t involved in the organization, the Phoenix Guard stop being these friendly sorts who greet you with their palms out for their weekly payoff, and turn into mean sons-of-bitches with all sorts of sharp things and no sense of congeniality. And because of that, even if word never reaches the Empire, if the Jhereg thinks you’re doing something that might get the Empire involved, then you will end up with a leaky body and a shiny skin. So I don’t do that. All I figured on doing was finding out if there were any loose funds there that might be subject to friendly persuasion, by which I mean, this time, friendly persuasion. Sometimes you go up to a grieving widow and say, “Sorry for your loss, but he owed me money,” and that’s all it takes. I had no intention of pushing it any further than that. I didn’t. I swear by Verra’s extra finger joint I didn’t.
The next morning, I told Kragar to find out what he could about the family, which is one of the things Kragar is good at. Some of the other things he’s good at are reminding me of unpleasant things I’ve agreed to do, unintentionally sneaking up on me, and being irritating.
He said, “Don’t you want me to tell you what I’ve come up with?”
“Sure. What have you come up with?”
“Check into his family.”
“Good thinking.”
“Thanks.”
“Get on that, then.”
“Already did.”
“I suppose you expect a compliment.”
“And a bonus.”
“Good work.”
“Thanks. The bonus?”
“Very good work.”
“Nice.”
“Let’s hear about them.”
He didn’t use notes or anything this time. “Survived by a younger brother, has a fabric shop not far from here, just north of Malak Circle. Unmarried, an occasional lover, a Chreotha named Symik, nothing serious between them though. Parents are both alive, living in Cargo Point, in Guinchen, where they run an inn called Lakeview.”
“Financials?”
“Hard to be sure, Vlad. The inn supports them, but not much more, and there’s no signs of wealth. I guess the brother is doing a bit better than the others.”
“Then I’ll talk to him. Get me his exact addr—Thanks.”
Kragar smirked and walked out.
Well, I figured, no time like the present. I stood up, strapped on my blade, and checked the various surprises I keep concealed about my person. Not long before, I wouldn’t have left the place without at least two, more likely four bodyguards, but things had quieted down now. That was good, I like quiet. I like things quiet, and simple. Did I mention I’m a simple guy?
So, yeah, a quick stop in front of the mirror to make sure my cloak was hanging right, and off I went. I keep meaning to practice putting on the cloak, you know, with a kind of swirl, like they do in the theater, but I never seem to get around to it, and I don’t think the ones in the theater are packed with as much hardware as mine, so it might not be possible. But, hey, since I’m talking about it, let me tell you about my cloak. I love my cloak. It’s Jhereg gray, ankle length, and looks good thrown over my shoulder or wrapped around, and it has inside pockets and seams to put things in, and a wide collar for more things to go under. And it looks very good on me; I know because Cawti said so.
Copyright © 2023 by Steven Brust
