“Very likely,” said Vlad. “Only ...”
“Yes?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you have a friend who helped you?” The familiar enigmatic smile came and went. “Yes, I did.”
“Did he ever explain why he helped you?”
“No,” said Vlad slowly, as if the thought had never occurred to him. “No, she never did.”
“Did you ever wonder?”
“I still do.”
“Maybe I always will, too, then.”
“No,” said Vlad. “I suspect one day you’ll know.” Savn nodded, and decided that this was all the information he was likely to get. “How was your talk with the minstrel?”
“Satisfactory. I got some of what I was after; I’m hoping to get more.”
“Then I don’t doubt that you will,” said Savin. “I’ll see you later,” he added, standing.
“Are you certain?”
“Oh, yes.” Savn felt a small smile come to his lips and wondered if he was starting to copy Vlad’s mannerisms. He said, “I still want to impress girls.” He walked back to the table where he’d left his sister, and discovered that she was watching him.
“What were you talking to him about?”
“Just passing the time,” said Savn, picking up his ale. As he sipped, he realized that whatever mood or spell had been on him had broken; he was himself again.
He finished his drink in silence, then announced, “It’s time for me to go.”
“Already?”
“Yes.”
“All right. I’ll wait here for the minstrel.”
“Your friends will probably be joining you.”
“Maybe,” said Polyi, as if she couldn’t have cared less.
Savn looked at her for a moment, then leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
“What was that for?” she said.
“Because,” he said. “Not everyone has a sister.” He stood up and headed for the door. Just before he walked out, he turned and looked at Vlad, who was watching him. Savn inclined his head toward Vlad, and set off to spend the day with Master Wag.
He stopped about twenty paces outside the door, just to take in the day—doing what Master Wag called “Enjoying the now of it all,” though Savn thought that was a silly way of putting it.
The row of thin maples that marked the Manor Road wagged in the odd dance of mildly windswept trees, looking as if there were an entirely different breeze for each one. The sky had greyed, covering the overcast and hinting at the rain that Savn had been expecting each day of the harvest. Polite of it, he decided, to wait until they were done.
There was almost no one in sight, perhaps because of the threatening weather. Savn rather enjoyed being rained on, unless it was also cold and windy, but most people seemed not to like—
His meditations were interrupted by the odd sight of six or seven strangers walking around from behind Plaster’s hut, just across the way from Tem’s. They were all armed with long, heavy swords, and dressed in black, and Savn fancied he could see that above each breast was the Athyra crest of His Lordship.
What would seven of His Lordship’s men-at-arms be doing here, now?
He didn’t consciously answer his question, nor did he consciously decide to do anything about it, but he turned at once and went back to Tem’s to find Vlad.
When he entered once more, Polyi, who was still seated near the door, said, “What is it, Savn?” which was the last clear thing he remembered; all the rest of it he reconstructed afterwards from what Polyi told him and the fragments of memory that remained.
He shook his head and walked over to Vlad’s table, according to Polyi. Savn remembered how the Easterner was staring off with a distracted look on his face. Before Savn could say anything, however (Savn was never certain what he was going to say, in any case), Vlad rose abruptly to his feet; the table at which he had been sitting tipped over, landing on its side with a loud thunk. Vlad moved so quickly, Savn could hardly see him, which Savn later remembered as being the point at which he realized that Something Was Wrong.
There was a heavy step behind him, and he turned and saw one of the soldiers he’d noticed earlier, now holding his sword and charging through the door, directly at Savn. No, he realized suddenly, at Vlad.
Savn never remembered deciding to get out of the way, but somehow he was against the counter, watching more soldiers enter the door. They stepped over the body of the first one—Savn had not seen what happened to him—and Savn realized the scream in his ears had come from his sister.
He looked back at Vlad, who was now standing on a table, holding a sword in his right hand, and swinging what looked like a gold chain in his left. The sight of the Easterner’s shiny black boots on top of Tem’s table imprinted itself on Savn’s memory and brought back older memories, of a dancer who had come through town a long, long time ago.
There came a splash of red on the boots, and Savn’s eyes traveled up Vlad’s body until he was aware of an ugly slash along the Easterner’s side. He didn’t know how he’d gotten it. He also saw one of the soldiers writhing on the floor, and there was the glint of steel reflecting the lamps on Tem’s walls.
Somewhere, far from Savn’s conscious thoughts, he was aware of tem and his guests all scampering out of the way through doors and windows, but this seemed unimportant; Savn, unable or unwilling to move, stared at the scene before him.
For just an instant, he was able to watch the swordplay, three soldiers against the Easterner, all four blades slicing, thrusting, and whirling as if they went through the movements of a beautiful, terrible dance, and when one slipped through and struck Vlad deeply in the upper thigh, that, too, was planned and necessary.
The illusion shattered when Vlad suddenly teetered and fell, amid tables and chairs. At the same time, one of the soldiers fell back and turned around. At first, Savn thought the man’s hand had been injured, and then Savn realized that the man was clutching his throat, which had been horribly cut open. He watched the man fall, and felt ill.
And two familiar, winged shapes flew into the room and struck at the backs of the two soldiers who still stood, and two more soldiers came in from the back of the room.
Savn remembered thinking very clearly, Well, if I had any doubts about the jhereg, this should settle them.
There was an instant that was filled with swords flailing against the air, and then it all stopped, and the two jhereg flew back out the door.
One of the soldiers said, “Where did he go?”
Another said, “Get the healer!”
Another said, “It’s too late for Tevitt.”
Savn stared at the place where Vlad had been, and where now there were only reddish stains; then, without a thought for the injured soldiers or his terrified sister, he turned and fled out the door. He ran around to the back of Tem’s house and hid behind the stables, trembling.
I will not marry a starving painter,
I will not marry a starving painter,
I’d get skinny and just grow fainter.
Hi-dee hi-dee ho-la!
Step on out ...
Savn heard the heavy tramp of feet leaving Tem’s house. He waited a little longer to be sure, then made his way back inside. Polyi sat where she had been, looking awestruck and slightly ill. There were no injured or dead in sight, but Tern was already cleaning the floor where blood had been spilled.
He sat down next to Polyi and noticed that his hand was shaking. He put it on his lap under the table. She said, “Aren’t you late for going to Master Wag’s?” as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
“I guess so,” he said.
After a moment, she said, “Why did you run out?”
“I was too frightened to stay,” he said.
“Oh. Me, too.”
“Then why didn’t you run out?”