You can repeat the pattern for the day after, except she went to a different place after she’d finished, and ate with an Iorich who was probably her lover—at least, they seemed to be on good terms, and he went home with her. They took a different route, more scenic. I had the impression they always went this way.
The next day, no lover, no Jhereg interested in her, and back to the first route, past one of my favorite bakers, which made it especially trying.
When the same thing happened the next day, I started to get disgusted, not to mention worried.
“What have I missed, Loiosh? They’re going to take this Iorich out and make it look like those Easterners are behind it. To do that, they have to know her movements exactly. Why aren’t they there?”
“Maybe they are, and you can’t see them.”
“Invisible? I suppose. But someone would have noticed an invisible guy walking by. I’d think—”
“That’s not what I mean. She isn’t a Jhereg, Boss. She probably doesn’t have any protection spells on.”
“What’s your point?”
“Maybe they’re using sorcery to trace her?”
I used several of my favorite oaths, running them together. I wish I could remember exactly how I put it, because it was very poetic.
“Boss?”
“That’s cheating.”
“Uh, Boss—”
“I know, I know. I’m just pissed because I didn’t think of it.”
“That’s what you’ve got me around for.”
“Which you’ll never let me forget, which is the other thing I’m pissed about. All right, there has to be a way to figure this out. No, we don’t, we need to call for help.”
“Morrolan, or Sethra?”
“Yes.” Before he could say something snippy, I added, “Who would be easier to get to?”
“You could get Morrolan to come see you, instead of you going there.”
“Yeah, good point.”
I took another circuitous route back to the Palace area, then went into the Dragon Wing by one of the entrances used by the nobility. Two guards in full uniform stood outside the entrance; I wondered if standing outside the Wing for hours at a time is an honor or a punishment, but in any case I put on my full outfit of arrogance and went breezing past them. This was going to be fun.
There was a sergeant at a desk. I knew he was a sergeant because I recognized the marks on his uniform, and I knew it was a desk because it’s always a desk. There’s always someone at a desk, except when it’s a table that functions as a desk. You sit behind a desk, and everyone knows you’re supposed to be there, and that you’re doing something that involves your brain. It’s an odd, special kind of importance. I think everyone should get a desk; you can sit behind it when you feel like you don’t matter.
The Empress didn’t have a desk. Morrolan didn’t have a desk. Sethra didn’t have a desk. They really did matter. Me, when I was running my area for the Jhereg, I had a desk. Now I don’t. You can draw whatever conclusions you want to from that.
I went up to the sergeant behind the desk and said, “I am Count Szurke. This is my signet. I wish to see the ensign on duty.”
He didn’t like it much. The only people who are supposed to talk to you like that are the ones with bigger desks. But the signet of an Imperial title carries some weight with the military, so he nodded and, however painful it may have been for him, said, “Yes, my lord. At once.” Then he said, “Flips, bring my lord to the ensign.”
A guy who spent too much time on his hair said, “Yes, m’lord,” and bowed to me, then led the way down the hall, clapped outside the first door he came to, and, upon receiving the word, opened the door for me. I went into a room where there was a woman behind a desk. It was a bigger desk than the sergeant had.
I repeated my introduction and said, “I require a message delivered at once to Lord Morrolan. I wish him to meet me here. Find me a private room in which to wait, then let him know I’m there.”
She didn’t like my tone much, but orders, as they say, are orders. “Yes, my lord.” She pulled out a piece of paper, scribbled on it with a pen that went into a pen-holder with a dragon’s head etched on it, then affixed her seal and stood up. “If my lord will follow me?”
I don’t always love throwing my weight around. But sometimes, with some people, it’s just fun.
She showed me to a small, comfortable room, surrounded by pictures of battle, some of them terribly realistic-looking. There was a lot of blood. I didn’t find it relaxing. Also, they didn’t bring me any food or wine, which I got to resenting after an hour or so. Fortunately, it wasn’t much more than an hour before there came a clap at the door. I recognized Morrolan’s hands slapping together before Loiosh said anything, which fact might disturb me if I let it.
I got up and let him in, then closed the door behind him. He said, “What is it?” That’s Morrolan, all full of flowery greetings and chitchat.
“Those guards who stand outside the Wing. Are they being punished, or honored?”
“What is it?” he repeated. I guess I’ll never know.
“There’s someone I need to know about.” I said, “Her name is Desaniek. She—”
“That’s the name of the Justicer leading Her Majesty’s investigation into Tirma.”
“Oh, you knew about that?”
“I just heard.”
“I thought I’d get to surprise you.”
“What about her?”
“The Jhereg is going to kill her.”
“If the Jhereg does, there won’t be a Jhereg.”
I rolled my eyes. “It won’t look like they did it, Morrolan.”
“Oh? How are they going to manage that? A tragic, coincidental accident? She’s going to slip under a cart? Fall out of a building? Drown in her bathtub? Accidentally stab herself in the back while cleaning her knife?”
I filled him in on some of the background, then said, “It’s going to be blamed on some idiot group of Easterners and Teckla.”
He frowned. “Not the one—”
“No, a different group.”
“How many are there?”
“Lots, I guess. Stir them up long enough and hard enough, and pretty soon they start listening to the guy telling them how to solve all their problems.” I wasn’t sure if I believed that myself, but telling it to Morrolan was a nod to Cawti; I’d like to think she’d have appreciated it.
“Do you know where and when?”
“No. That’s what I want your help with.”
He put on a “this is going to be good” expression, and waited.
I said, “I’ve been following her, hoping to pick up whichever assassin is following her, hoping to take him out before he moves.”
“Well?”
“Well, no one is following her.”
He shrugged. “Maybe she has no protection spells on, and they’re tracing her movements with magic.”
I kept my face expressionless and said, “I had the same thought. Can you find out?”
“Hmmm? Oh, sure.”
“Good.”
“Now?”
“Up to you,” I said. “Now, or else after she’s dead. Either way is fine.”
“And then,” he said, “there are times I don’t miss you so much.”
“Yeah, well.”
“Okay, a moment.” He closed his eyes, opened them, looked disgusted, and said, “Oh, right. I’m in the Dragon Wing. Wait here.”