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He got up and walked out, so I missed see­ing the pow­er­ful sor­cer­er do­ing his pow­er­ful sor­cery, which would have in­volved him clos­ing his eyes and then, I don’t know, maybe tak­ing a deep breath or some­thing.

He was back a few min­utes lat­er. He sat down op­po­site me and said, “No one’s trac­ing her.”

“Re­al­ly. Well. Isn’t that in­ter­est­ing. Any chance they have a trace on her you don’t know about?”

“I checked for sor­cery, and witchcraft. I sup­pose it’s pos­si­ble, but it isn’t very like­ly. Does this mean you’re wrong?”

“I don’t know. It fit to­geth­er too well for me to think I got it wrong. But I don’t, as Perisil would say, have any ev­idence that would work in court.”

He con­sid­ered. “If you’re right, ig­nor­ing the lack of ev­idence, what hap­pens to Aliera?”

“Good ques­tion. In fact, that’s the ques­tion, isn’t it? I wish I had an an­swer. If they get away with it, the Em­press has to choose be­tween giv­ing in to the Jhereg, and sac­ri­fic­ing Aliera. I don’t know which way she’ll jump.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Hmm?”

“What if you stop them?”

“Oh. Then the Em­pire runs an in­ves­ti­ga­tion in­to the mas­sacre, and prob­ably drops all those bo­gus charges against Aliera. She was War­lord when it hap­pened; I have no idea how an in­ves­ti­ga­tion like that will work out.”

He con­sid­ered for a mo­ment. “I’d be in­clined to think there’d be no blame at­tached to her.”

“Should there be?”

“Par­don?”

“Well, she’s the War­lord. It hap­pened. How far up should the re­spon­si­bil­ity go?”

“Do you care?”

“Not re­al­ly. Just cu­ri­ous.”

“I’m not an Iorich.”

“Right.”

He said, “What are you go­ing to do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe get out of town. I don’t want to be here when what­ev­er hap­pens hap­pens.”

He stared at me. “What, just give up?”

“I was think­ing about it.”

“That isn’t like you.”

“Mor­rolan, I’m lost. Some­time, some­how, they’re go­ing to take out De­saniek. And it will look like these East­ern­ers did it to protest the mas­sacre. It could be any­where. I’ve spent most of the last week fol­low­ing her. I count­ed more than thir­ty times and places that would have been great to nail her. How am I sup­posed to know which they’ll do? You can­not stop an as­sas­sin un­less you know the as­sas­sin and get to him first. If you have any sug­ges­tions on how to fig­ure that out, feel free to men­tion them. I’m beat.”

“Can’t help you,” he said, dry­ly. “You’re the on­ly as­sas­sin I know.”

“I know plen­ty of them, and I’m no bet­ter off. The oth­er pos­si­bil­ity is that I’m en­tire­ly wrong, and in that case I’m even more help­less be­cause I have no clue at all that points to what they’re plan­ning, and I can’t con­vince my­self they’re go­ing to just take this with­out mak­ing a move of some kind.”

He frowned. “We need to do some­thing.”

“I’m glad it’s ‘we’ now.”

His nos­trils flared, but he didn’t say any­thing; he knows when I’m just blow­ing sparks.

“Thanks for com­ing by,” I said.

“Need a tele­port any­where?”

“Yes, but I can’t risk it. Thanks, though.”

We both stood up. “If you come up with any­thing, and I can help—”

“I’ll let you know.”

He nod­ded and pre­ced­ed me out the door, head­ing deep­er in­to the Wing; pre­sum­ably to find a place he could tele­port from. I miss the small con­ve­niences, you know? I took my­self out and start­ed back to­ward my inn, think­ing a bit of rest wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“Was that true, Boss? Are you re­al­ly giv­ing up?”

“I don’t know. Prob­ably not. But I have no idea what to do.”

“I’m with Mor­rolan. Doesn’t seem like you to leave town with things un­fin­ished.”

“Would you be against it?”

“No! I’m all for it, Boss! This place scares me. But it seems like you show­ing good sense, and that’s not what I ex­pect.”

I sighed. “I prob­ably won’t.”

“You should.”

“I know.”

“You have no idea where they’re go­ing to hit, Boss. What can you do?”

“That’s what I’ve been say­ing. I on­ly know who they’re go­ing to nail, and who they’re go­ing to—oh.”

“What?”

I stopped in my tracks, and my mind raced. Then I said, “I know who they’re go­ing to blame it on.”

“What does that get you?”

“A walk to South Adri­lankha.”

“Uh, care to tell me why?”

“There might be things to learn from the peo­ple who are sup­posed to take the fall.”

“Like what?”

“If I learn them, I’ll let you know.”

“Oh, good.”

I was stand­ing in the mid­dle of the court­yard out­side of the Drag­on Wing of the Palace. The House of the Drag­on, dark and oh-​so-​im­pos­ing, loomed over me as if match­ing glares with the Wing. There were four or five walk­ways lead­ing out of the area, some to oth­er parts of the Palace, oth­ers to the City. For all I knew, there were as­sas­sins hang­ing around all of them wait­ing to make my skin glis­ten.

But I had some­thing to do, which is all any­one can ask.

“Yeah, Boss? What are we go­ing to do?”

“I’m go­ing to go back to the inn and drop a note to Kiera ask­ing her to bring by the names of what­ev­er Left Hand busi­ness­es she’s been able to find, then I’m go­ing to have a de­cent meal sent up, drink half a bot­tle of wine, and go to sleep.”

“Sounds like my kind of plan.”

“To­mor­row is a busy day. I know a cou­ple of places owned by the Left Hand. If Kiera doesn’t show up, we vis­it one.”

“Good. Then at least we don’t have to wor­ry about a plan for the day af­ter to­mor­row, be­cause nei­ther one of us will be around to see it.”

Iorich

14

M’la­dy: Just got word through your of­fice of the event. I’m per­fect­ly will­ing to at­tend and an­swer any ques­tions the mob has, though I can­not imag­ine what good H.M. imag­ines such a thing will do. They’re go­ing to be­lieve what they be­lieve, and I can talk un­til my voice is hoarse with­out chang­ing them; nor do I see what dif­fer­ence it makes what they think, un­less H.M. is afraid of more dis­or­ders like there were a few years ago. Of­fi­cial­ly, I have no opin­ion about that, of course (though un­of­fi­cial­ly a troop of guards will deal with how­ev­er many of them take to the street). My ques­tion is, if I’m go­ing to do this, how do you want me to han­dle it? I’d rather not have it in writ­ing. Let me know when a good time is, and I can be in your of­fices, or wher­ev­er else you’d like to meet.

—Un­signed (not au­then­ti­cat­ed)

I felt a bit bet­ter the next morn­ing. I stood up and stretched again, tak­ing it slow and easy. I was still try­ing to make my mus­cles obey when there was a clap out­side the door; Loiosh told me it was Kiera, I sug­gest­ed she en­ter. She asked how I was feel­ing, and I lied a lit­tle. “Did you find out any­thing?”

“I learned a few busi­ness­es that are cov­ers for Left Hand op­er­ations. Here.” She hand­ed me a sheet of pa­per with some names and ad­dress­es.

I held it out in front of her and tapped one. “You sure about this?”

She stud­ied it. “Tym­brii,” she said. “Pre-​spun cloth and yarn. What about them?”

“Noth­ing,” I said. “Ex­cept Cawti used to go there all the time. I had no idea.”

“I don’t know who the re­al own­er is, but it’s a good place to go if you want to be lis­ten­ing in on some­one who thinks he has spells that will pre­vent that.”