Dragon

"Boss, this could get you into trouble."

"I know."

I sat back and looked at Morrolan. He held my gaze. After a moment I said, "That isn't at all the sort of thing I'm any good at, Morrolan. And, to tell you the truth, if I did find out, I don't believe I could bring myself to tell you. It's a Jhereg thing, you know?"

"I believe I do, yes." He frowned and seemed to be considering. "On the other hand," he said, "if I understand how you—that is, how the Jhereg—work, whoever did the stealing would be unlikely to be more than a tool, hired by someone else, is that correct?"

"Yes," I said, not terribly happy about where this was going.

"Well then, could you find out—"

"Maybe," I admitted.

"What would it take?"

"Money. A lot of it."

"I have money."

"I still want to think about it. It could put me into a situation I'm not certain I'd like."

"I understand. Do think about it, though. I can offer you—"

"Don't tell me. I'd rather not be tempted. I'll let you know."

He nodded and didn't press the issue, which earned him some points with me.

"There's another matter," he said.

I bit back irony and waited.

"The circumstances of Baritt's death—"

"Which are none of my business."

"—have, among other things, made me aware of the vulnerability of Castle Black."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The circumstances of—"

"I heard you, I just don't understand. How is a castle floating half a mile or more in the air vulnerable? Other than to falling down, of course."

"That isn't likely."

"I'm glad to hear it. Which reminds me, why don't my ears pop when I teleport up?"

He looked smug but didn't tell me. "Obviously," he said, "the castle can be penetrated by anyone who can teleport and conceal himself from my guards."

"You don't have any security precautions?"

"Some, but not enough. It seems to me you could be of some assistance in telling me where to improve them."

I thought it over, and realized that I knew exactly how to go about it. "Yes, I can do that." I considered asking about payment, but on reflection calculated that it would be more profitable to do a good job and allow him to display his generosity.

He frowned for a moment, and seemed lost in thought.

"Psychic communication, Boss."

"I knew that, Loiosh."

"You're a liar, Boss."

"Well, yeah."

At about that time, a Dragonlord entered the room and bowed to Morrolan. He was short and rather stocky for a Dragaeran, with short, light-brown hair and pale eyes; he didn't strike me as a fighter, but he wore a blade, which meant he was on duty in some capacity.

Morrolan said, "Fentor, this is Baronet Vladimir Taltos. I know you are willing to work with Easterners, but are you willing to take orders from a Jhereg?"

Fentor said, "My lord?"

Loiosh said, "What did he say?"

I said, "Errgh?"

Morrolan said, "I've just hired Lord Taltos as a security consultant. That puts you in his charge, under certain circumstances."

I felt my mouth open and close. Morrolan had what? And when had he done this?

Fentor said, "That will not be a problem, my lord."

"Good," said Morrolan.

"Excuse me," I said.

"Yes?"

"Yes?"

"Never mind. A pleasure, Fentor."

"The same, my lord."

"Boss, you've just been hired."

"Well, yeah. Recruited, actually."

"You should tell him to never use this power in the service of evil."

"I'll be sure to."

It occurred to me, also, that it was going to be harder, now that I was more or less working for him, to avoid trying to get the information he was after. Of course, maybe I'd get lucky, and no one would steal any of the weapons. Something made me doubt this.

Fentor bowed cordially to us both and made his exit.

I said, "Morrolan, what aren't you telling me?"

"Many things."

"In particular. I get the feeling that you aren't just generally worried about someone stealing some random Morganti weapon."

"You should trust your feelings; they seem to be reliable."

"Thank you so much."

He stood abruptly and said, "Come with me, Vlad. I'll show you around and introduce you to a few people."

"I can hardly wait," I said.

I got up and followed him.

2—Crossing Lines

Do you know what a battlefield smells like? If so, you have my sympathy; if not, you still won't, because I have no intention of dwelling on it except to say that people don't smell so good on the inside.

We stepped over the piles of dirt (I can't call it a "bulwark" with a straight face) that we'd spent so much time and sweat creating, and moved forward at a steady pace; not too fast, not too slow. No, come to think of it, much too fast. A slow crawl would have been much too fast.

I adjusted my uniform sash, which was the only mark I carried to show which side I was on, since I'd lost my cute little cap somewhere during the last couple of attacks. About half of the company had lost their cute little caps, and many of the enemy had, too. But we all had sashes, which identified the side we were on, like the ribbons that identify sandball teams. I never played sandball. I'd seen Dragons playing sandball in West Side Park, alongside of Teckla, though never in the same game at the same time, and certainly not on the same team. Make of that what you will.

"Have you thought about getting up in the air and away from this?" I asked my familiar for the fifth time.

"I've thought about it," he answered for the fourth (the first time he hadn't made any response at all, so I'd had to repeat the question; we'd only sustained three attacks hitherto). And, "How did we get into this, anyway?" I'd lost count of how many times he'd asked me that; not as many as I'd asked myself.

We moved forward.

How did we get ourselves into this?

I asked Sethra, not long ago, why she ordered us to hold that position, which never looked terribly important from where I sat—except to me, of course, for personal reasons that I'll go into later. She said, "For the same reason I had Gutrin's spear phalanx attack that little dale to your left. By holding that spot, you threatened an entire flank, and I needed to freeze a portion of the enemy's reserves. As long as you kept threatening that position, he had to either reinforce it or remain ready to reinforce it. That way I could wait for the right time and place to commit my reserves, which I did when—"

"All right, all right," I said. "Never mind."

I hadn't wanted a technical answer, I'd wanted her to say "It was vital to the entire campaign." I wanted to have had a more important role. We were one piece on the board, and only as important as any other. All the pieces wish to be, if not a player, at least the piece the players are most concerned with.

Not being a player was one of the things that bothered me. I was, I suppose, only a piece and not a player when I would carry out the order of one of my Jhereg superiors, but I had been running my own territory for a short while at that point, and had already become used to it. That was part of the problem: In the Jhereg, I was, if not a commander-in-chief, at least a high ranking field officer. Here, I was, well, I guess I was a number of things, but put them all together and they still didn't amount to much.

But how did we get ourselves into this? There were no great principles involved. I mean, you judge a war according to who is in the right as long as you have no interest in the outcome; if you're one of the participants, or if the result is going to have a major effect on you, then you have to create the moral principles that put you in the right—that's nothing new, everyone knows it. But this one was so raw. No one could even come up with a good mask to put over it. It was over land, and power, and who got to expand where, without even the thinnest veneer of anything else.