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“The Left Hand does.” She start­ed to speak but I cut her off. “I don’t know a lot about the Left Hand, but I know how they op­er­ate, and it’s just like that. Not to men­tion the Or­ca.”

She nod­ded slow­ly. “Yes, I can see that. What do you sug­gest I do?”

“The ob­vi­ous thing is to ar­rest the rebels.”

“And you know as well as I do why I can’t.”

“The Em­press wouldn’t ap­prove?”

“And for good rea­son: that sort of thing just stirs them up and makes the rest think they must be right. Your peas­ant is a peace­ful, hap­py sort, nor­mal­ly, Vlad, and hav­ing a few mal­con­tents around gives him some­one to feel wis­er than. Knock ten of those on the head, and now you have a thou­sand in their place. We don’t need that.”

I wasn’t en­tire­ly sure about the whole peace­ful hap­py peas­ant thing, but I had to agree with the rest. “Can­cel the meet­ing?”

“The same prob­lem, on­ly not quite as bad.”

“Yeah. Well, break up this deal with the Or­ca and the Left Hand? Leave them no rea­son to go to the trou­ble? They’re prac­ti­cal sorts, you know.”

“How do you pro­pose do­ing that?”

“I don’t know. Ask nice­ly?”

“Can you be se­ri­ous for two words?”

“Not with­out great ef­fort.”

“Vlad—”

“Okay, I know how to do it. Maybe. I have to make some as­sump­tions, and af­ter learn­ing just now that the tar­get isn’t De­saniek, but—what’s his name?”

“Caltho.”

“Right. Af­ter learn­ing that, I’m not so sure about my abil­ity to make as­sump­tions, but I’m go­ing for it any­way.”

“What are you go­ing to do?”

“Iden­ti­fy the as­sas­sin, and kill him.”

She drummed her fin­gers on her desk. Then, “All right,” she said. “Can I help?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve been threat­ened by the Left Hand. Or, rather, Cawti has.”

Her eyes nar­rowed. “And you’re go­ing ahead with it?”

“You know her. Wouldn’t you?”

She nod­ded slow­ly. “All right. I’ll watch her.”

“She’ll need sor­cer­ous pro­tec­tion above all.”

“I’m not an id­iot, Vlad.”

“Sor­ry. It’s just—”

“I know. Any­thing else?”

I shook my head, stood, and took my leave.

“Boss, I will nev­er, ev­er un­der­stand flight­less peo­ple.”

All I had to do was find the as­sas­sin. Should be no prob­lem. Just look for the shifty eyes. Heh.

If you’re go­ing up against some­one, it’s al­ways best to as­sume he’s not as good as you, and a lit­tle bet­ter than you. You need to fig­ure you’re bet­ter, be­cause oth­er­wise you start sec­ond-​guess­ing your­self, and hes­itat­ing, and do­ing all sorts of oth­er things that don’t help at all. And bet­ter, be­cause if you un­der­es­ti­mate some skill he has, it could be very em­bar­rass­ing. It’s tricky do­ing both at once.

Put it this way: Could I dis­guise my­self well enough that I couldn’t tell I was an as­sas­sin?

Easy.

So, how would I get my­self to re­veal me, in a crowd­ed room? How crowd­ed? I had no idea. It wasn’t that big a cot­tage; you couldn’t get more than twen­ty or thir­ty peo­ple in there.

I ate, and I thought, and I didn’t come up with any­thing bet­ter than sud­den­ly pulling a knife and see­ing if any­one re­act­ed like he knew what he was do­ing. I didn’t much like it. Then it crossed my mind that per­haps it would be a sor­cer­ous at­tack, and I liked it even less.

Well, all right. The as­sas­sin would be there, or not; the as­sas­sin would be a sor­cer­er, or not. When you’re play­ing Shere­ba, and you re­al­ize that the on­ly way you can win is if your op­pos­ing knave is still in the deck, then you play as if it’s still in the deck. There­fore, the as­sas­sin would be there, and would not be a sor­cer­ess.

“Glad that’s set­tled.”

“Shut up.”

I did some more think­ing, and came up with noth­ing else, and even­tu­al­ly I fell asleep.

When I woke up, I hurt a lit­tle less, but I still had no in­ter­est in even mov­ing slow­ly; the idea of mov­ing fast just wasn’t any fun at all.

“Boss, if you spot the as­sas­sin, what are you go­ing to do?”

“I’m go­ing to say, ‘Pointy point, you’re the don­key.’ ”

“I prob­ably don’t want to know, do I?”

“I’m just wor­ried about the pos­si­bil­ity he nev­er played that as a kid. You don’t think about as­sas­sins ev­er be­ing kids, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s just what was on my mind.”

I stood up, slow­ly and painful­ly. “What if I was beat­en just for this? I mean, what if the whole point was to make it im­pos­si­ble for me to take out the as­sas­sin if I need­ed to?”

“Yeah, Boss. What if?”

I didn’t have an an­swer, so I slow­ly got dressed and ready, and then, Loiosh and Rocza scout­ing for me, I went down the stairs and out. I picked up some warm, crusty bread and smoky, crumbly goat cheese from a ven­dor out­side the inn. I love warm bread more than a lot of things you’d think would be high­er on the list, you know?

Af­ter I’d eat­en, I made my way to the West Palace Mar­ket, which is a good place to go for the best in­gre­di­ents, if you can make your­self get up that ear­ly in the morn­ing. I wasn’t there for in­gre­di­ents to­day, though. In the far south­west­ern cor­ner of the mar­ket, be­hind a stall that sells the best truf­fles in White-​crest is a rat­ty-​look­ing per­ma­nent store that sells pre-​rolled cop­per tub­ing, and nails, ham­mers, springs, and var­ious tools for us­ing the above. It’s run by a Tsalmoth named Liska who looks as old as Sethra is and scur­ries about at a fu­ri­ous pace, her back per­ma­nent­ly bent and her eyes look­ing up from be­neath hair so stringy she seems to have lost her no­ble’s point. She keeps her cash in a box be­neath the stool she us­es on the rare oc­ca­sions when she sits to dick­er with a cus­tomer, while the cus­tomer stands on the oth­er side of a wood­en plank set on two bar­rels; the plank is a light wood, well-​pol­ished, and carved with de­pic­tions of a tsalmoth in var­ious odd pos­es.

“What do you want?” she said when I walked in.

“A knife,” I told her.

She scur­ried on­to her stool. She knew me, but ad­mit­ting it would, I guess, give me a bar­gain­ing ad­van­tage over her. Some­thing like that. “What sort of knife?” she barked out.

“Noth­ing fan­cy; just some­thing to whit­tle with.”

She gave me a look that in­di­cat­ed enough sus­pi­cion to prove she knew who I was. I looked all in­no­cent and shit. She showed me a se­lec­tion, and I end­ed up pick­ing out a small clasp knife. I test­ed the edge be­cause it would have looked fun­ny not to, and made sure it opened and closed eas­ily, gave her an im­pe­ri­al and told her to keep it, and head­ed back out.

“Okay, Boss. I can’t wait to see what you’re go­ing to do with that.”

“It’s pret­ty small; I’ll most like­ly just lose it.”

I still had a cou­ple of hours be­fore the meet­ing was sup­posed to start. Not far from the West Palace Mar­ket is a hos­tel called the Ink­stand for a rea­son that was ex­plained to me once but I can’t re­mem­ber; I think it was some­thing his­tor­ical. There’s an ac­tor named Gi­naasa who lives there from time to time, and with whom I’ve done busi­ness be­fore. Since it was ear­ly in the morn­ing, I ex­pect­ed to wake him up, and I ex­pect­ed him to be sober. I was right on both counts, but he took it in good grace when I clinked some coins. I left there a bit lat­er with a cloth bag con­tain­ing a blond wig and a neat­ly trimmed match­ing beard, a bit of glue, and a jar of stuff to light­en my com­plex­ion a bit.

That done, I still had the hard part: if it worked, what then? How was I go­ing to ma­nip­ulate events to get what I want­ed, just in case that was a pos­si­bil­ity?