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I said, “See that fel­low over there?”

He looked. “No,” he said.

“Look again. There. No, where I’m point­ing. Just bare­ly around the cor­ner from the door.”

“Oh. Yes. What’s he do­ing?”

“Same thing I am. The ques­tion is, who is he do­ing it for?”

“Should I ask him?”

I took a breath, let it out again. “That wasn’t ex­act­ly what I had in mind.”

“Oh. You mean, some­thing more in­va­sive?”

“Yes.”

He paused. “He’s wear­ing pro­tec­tion.”

“Oh. Does that mean you can’t find out?”

He looked at me, as if try­ing to see if I was jok­ing. Then he said, “No.”

“Okay, but I don’t want him know­ing what hap­pened.”

That earned me an­oth­er look; which was fine, that’s why I’d said it.

I know, I know; it isn’t nice to ir­ri­tate some­one who is do­ing you a fa­vor. It prob­ably isn’t smart, ei­ther. But if you’d ev­er met Day­mar, you’d un­der­stand. Be­sides, this gave him an ex­cuse to show off, which was what he lived for.

No, that isn’t fair. It wasn’t about show­ing off for him, it was his fas­ci­na­tion with the thing he was do­ing—it was a chance to use his skill, to do what felt right for him to do. I could un­der­stand that; I used to feel the same way when set­ting up to put a shine on some­one. Not the killing, the set­ting up: that feel­ing of ev­ery­thing func­tion­ing the way it’s sup­posed to, of your mind go­ing above it­self, of—

“Got it,” he said.

I nod­ded. “What did you learn?”

“That he’s bored, that this is stupid, that noth­ing has been hap­pen­ing, and that he’s glad he doesn’t have to make the re­port.”

“Um. Let’s start with the last. He doesn’t have to make the re­port?”

“No, he’s just help­ing out some guy named Wid­ner.”

“And he doesn’t know who Wid­ner re­ports to?”

“Nope.”

I sug­gest­ed that my pa­tron god­dess should take sen­su­al plea­sure, though I didn’t put it quite in those terms. “Why doesn’t he want to make the re­port?”

“I can’t say ex­act­ly; I just got the im­pres­sion that who­ev­er the re­port is be­ing giv­en to, he wouldn’t like her.”

“Her.”

He nod­ded.

“Oh.”

I with­drew my sug­ges­tions about the De­mon God­dess.

Well now, that was all sorts of in­ter­est­ing. “Thank you, Day­mar. You’ve been most help­ful.”

“Al­ways a plea­sure, Vlad.”

There was a “whoosh” of air and he was gone, all abrupt and stuff, leav­ing me with my thoughts, such as they were.

Her.

If it was a “her” that Wid­ner was re­port­ing to, it was the Left Hand of the Jhereg.

Why was the Left Hand keep­ing a watch on what hap­pened in that lit­tle cot­tage?

Be­cause the Left Hand was in­volved in what­ev­er the Jhereg—the Right Hand, I mean—and the Or­ca were do­ing. And be­cause hav­ing Brinea and her peo­ple push­ing for the Em­pire to in­ves­ti­gate the mas­sacre in Tir­ma might mess up the plans.

Okay, fine. Why?

Be­cause the Em­pire, just on the off chance that they were hon­est (what­ev­er Cawti might say about that pos­si­bil­ity), would, by in­ves­ti­gat­ing, un­der­cut the pres­sure the Jhereg and the Or­ca were putting on them, and their scheme would fall through.

So, what would they do? They’d stop the in­ves­ti­ga­tion, if they could.

How? How do you go about stop­ping an Im­pe­ri­al in­ves­ti­ga­tion? And what did it have to do with some weird group of East­ern­ers gath­ered in a lit­tle cot­tage in South Adri­lankha?

Loiosh re­turned from his er­rand and land­ed on my shoul­der.

“Is he gone al­ready, Boss?”

“Yeah, and so are we. I have stuff to do.”

Iorich

12

Q: State your name and House.

A: Aliera e’Kieron, House of the Drag­on.

Q: What was your po­si­tion at the time of the in­ci­dent in Tir­ma?

A: As near as I can re­con­struct the mo­ment, I was sit­ting down.

Q: Please tell us your of­fi­cial po­si­tion with re­spect to the Em­pire.

A: Pris­on­er.

Q: Please tell us your of­fi­cial po­si­tion, with re­spect to the Em­pire, at the time of the in­ci­dent in Tir­ma.

A: War­lord, al­though in point of fact, my re­spect for the Em­pire is, at this mo­ment, un­der some­thing of a strain.

Q: Were the Im­pe­ri­al troops in Tir­ma act­ing un­der your or­ders?

A: I was the War­lord.

Q: I take that as an af­fir­ma­tive.

A: You can take that and—yes, they were act­ing un­der my or­ders.

Q: What or­ders did you give with re­spect to the re­bel­lion in the duchy of Carv­er?

A: To sup­press it.

Q: Were you spe­cif­ic as to the means of sup­press­ing it?

A: I thought per­haps a nice bou­quet of can­dle­bud sur­round­ing a bot­tle of Ailor would do the trick.

Q: The Court re­minds the wit­ness that copies of her or­ders are in the Court’s pos­ses­sion.

A: The wit­ness won­ders, then, why the Court is both­er­ing to ask ques­tions to which it knows the an­swers.

Q: The wit­ness is re­mind­ed that she may be held in con­tempt.

A: The feel­ing is mu­tu­al.

“Want to tell me about it, Boss?”

Just to be un­pre­dictable, I filled him in on what I’d put to­geth­er. When I’d fin­ished, he was qui­et for a while; maybe from shock. Then he said, “Okay, what now?”

“Can you think of any rea­son for the Left Hand to have that cot­tage watched, ex­cept for what I’m think­ing? They’re push­ing for an Im­pe­ri­al in­ves­ti­ga­tion, and the Left Hand doesn’t want that to hap­pen. Am I miss­ing some­thing?”

“Boss, you don’t know any­thing about those peo­ple. That’s one thing they’re do­ing. What if it’s some­thing else en­tire­ly?”

“Like what?”

“How should I know?”

“You re­al­ly think it’s some­thing else?”

“No, I think the same as you. But you don’t know.”

“Then let’s run with that for the mo­ment, and see where it gets us. If the Em­pire in­ves­ti­gates, the deal’s off, and the Jhereg, the Or­ca, and the Left Hand all lose. So, they don’t want the in­ves­ti­ga­tion to hap­pen.”

“But it’s hap­pen­ing any­way, hav­ing noth­ing to do with any­one in any lit­tle cot­tage. Where does that leave us?”

“That’s what I’m try­ing to work out.”

“Work away.”

“Okay. How do you stop an Im­pe­ri­al in­ves­ti­ga­tion?”

“You know, Boss, that’s some­thing you ne­glect­ed to cov­er in my train­ing ses­sions.”

“Can’t pres­sure the Em­press di­rect­ly, we have noth­ing to pres­sure her with.”

“I don’t get it, Boss. Why is the Em­press do­ing this, any­way?”

“So she can get out from un­der the Jhereg; to look good to the no­bles, and maybe to the peo­ple too, I don’t know.”

“Okay, I’ll buy that.”

“So then, the thing to do is to dis­cred­it the in­ves­ti­ga­tion.”

“Good plan, Boss. How do you do it?”

“Spread ru­mors that these East­ern­ers are be­hind it? Maybe plant some ev­idence?”

“Pos­si­ble.” He didn’t sound con­vinced. Nei­ther was I, for that mat­ter.

“Boss, where are we go­ing?”

I stopped. As I had been think­ing and walk­ing, my feet had tak­en me over the Stone Bridge and were lead­ing me back to my old area—the worst place I could be. The chances of the Jhereg spot­ting me were too high to make me com­fort­able any­where in the city; in my old neigh­bor­hood it was near­ly cer­tain.