“My ire,” I told him.
His eyebrows arched. “Not at anyone I know, I hope.”
“As a matter of fact, at one of your guests.”
“Indeed? How dreadfully unfortunate for you both. Which one, if I may ask?”
“Do you know a certain Lord Mellar? Jhereg?”
“Why, yes. It happens that I do.”
“Might I inquire as to the circumstances?”
(Giggle.) “You’re starting to sound like him, boss.”
“Shut up, Loiosh.”
Morrolan shrugged. “He sent word to me a few weeks ago that he’d acquired a certain book I’ve been interested in, and made an appointment to bring it by. He arrived with it . . . let me see . . . three days ago now. He has remained as my guest since that time.”
“I presume he actually had the book?”
“You presume correctly.” Morrolan indicated the tome he’d been reading as I entered. I looked at the cover, which bore a symbol I didn’t recognize.
“What is it?” I asked him.
He looked at me for a moment, as if wondering whether I was trustworthy, or perhaps whether he should allow himself to be questioned; then he shrugged.
“Pre-Empire sorcery,” he said.
I whistled in appreciation, as well as surprise. I glanced around the room quickly, but none of the others seemed astonished by this revelation. They had probably known all along. I keep finding things out about people, just when I think I know them. “Does the Empress know about this little hobby of yours?” I asked him.
He smiled a little. “Somehow I keep forgetting to mention it to her.”
“How unlike you,” I remarked.
When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “How long have you been studying it?”
“Pre-Empire sorcery? It’s been rather an interest of mine for a hundred years or so. In fact, the Empress undoubtedly knows; it isn’t all that much of a secret. Naturally, I’ve never acknowledged it officially, but it’s a bit like owning a Morganti blade: if they need an excuse to harass a fellow, they have one. Other than that they won’t bother one about it. Unless, of course, one starts using it.”
“Or unless one happens to be a Jhereg,” I muttered.
“There is that, isn’t there?”
I turned back to the main subject. “How did Mellar end up staying here, after he delivered the book?”
Morrolan looked thoughtful. “Would you mind terribly if I asked what this is all about?”
I glanced around the room again and saw that Sethra and Aliera also seemed interested. Aliera was sitting on the couch, an arm thrown casually across it, a wineglass in her other hand (Where had she gotten it?) held so that the light from the large ceiling lamp reflected off it and made pretty patterns on her cheek. She surveyed me coolly from under her eyelids, her head tilted slightly.
Sethra was looking at me steadily, intently. She had chosen a black upholstered chair which blended with her gown, and her pale white, undead skin shone out. I felt a tension in her, as if she had a feeling that something unpleasant was going on. Knowing Sethra, she probably did.
Morrolan sat at the other end of the couch from Aliera—relaxed, and yet looking as if he were posing for a painting. I shook my head.
“I’ll tell you if you insist,” I said, “but I’d rather find out a little more first, so I have a better idea of what I’m talking about.”
“Or how much you feel like telling us?” asked Aliera, sweetly.
I couldn’t repress a smile.
“I might point out,” said Morrolan, “that if you want our help with anything, you’re going to have to give us essentially the whole story.”
“I’m aware of that,” I said.
Morrolan gathered in the others’ opinions with a glance. Aliera shrugged with her wineglass, as if it made no difference in the world to her. Sethra nodded, once.
Morrolan turned back to me. “Very well, then, Vlad. What exactly did you wish to know?”
“How was it that Mellar happened to stay here after delivering the book? You aren’t in the habit of inviting Jhereg into your home.”
Morrolan permitted himself another smile. “With a few exceptions,” he said.
“Some of us are special.”
“Shut up, Loiosh.”
“Count Mellar,” said Morrolan, “contacted me some four days ago. He informed me that he had a volume that he thought I’d want and politely suggested that he drop by and deliver it.”
I interrupted. “Didn’t it seem a bit odd that he’d hand it over himself, rather than have a flunky deliver it?”
“Yes, it did occur to me as odd. But after all, such a book is illegal and I made the assumption that he didn’t want anyone to know that he had it. His employees, after all, were Jhereg. How could he trust them?” He paused for a moment, to see if I’d respond to the cut, but I let it go by. “In any case,” he continued, “the Count appeared to be a very polite fellow. I did a bit of checking around on him, and found him to be a trustworthy sort, for a Jhereg. After deciding that he probably wouldn’t make any trouble, I invited him to dine with me and a few other guests, and he accepted.”
I glanced quickly at Aliera and Sethra. Sethra shook her head, indicating that she hadn’t been there. Aliera was looking moderately interested. She nodded.
“I remember him,” she said. “He was dull.”
With that ultimate condemnation, I turned back to Morrolan, who continued. “The dinner went well enough that I felt no compunctions about inviting him to the general party. I will admit that a few of my coarser guests, who don’t think well of Jhereg, tried to give him trouble in one fashion or another, but he was quite friendly and went out of his way to avoid problems. So I gave him an invitation to stay here for seventeen days, if he cared to. I will admit to being somewhat startled when he accepted, but I assumed he wanted a short vacation or something. What else did you wish to know?”
I held up my hand, asking for a moment’s grace while I sorted out this new information. Could he . . . ? What were the chances? How sure could Mellar be?
“Do you have any idea,” I asked, “how he might have gotten his hands on the book in the first place?”
Morrolan shook his head. “The one stipulation that he had for returning it was that I make no effort to find out how he got it. You see, at one time it held a place in my library. It was, as you would say, ‘lifted.’ I might add this occurred before I started making improvements in my security system.”
I nodded. Unfortunately, it was all fitting in rather well.
“Didn’t that make you suspicious?” I asked.
“I assumed that it was a Jhereg who stole it, of course. But, as you should be aware of more than I, there are endless possibilities as to how this fellow could have received it, ‘legitimately,’ if you will. For example, the fellow who had taken it could have found that he couldn’t sell it safely, and Count Mellar might have done him a favor by making sure that I never found out the details of the crime. Jhereg do tend to operate that way, you know.”
I knew. “How long ago was this book stolen?”
“How long? Let me think . . . it would be . . . about ten years ago now, I believe.”
“Damn,” I muttered to myself, “so Kragar was right.”
“What is it, Vlad?” asked Aliera. She was genuinely interested, now.
I looked at the three of them. How should I go about this? I had a sudden urge to answer, “Oh, nothing,” get up, and see how close I could get to the door before they stopped me. I didn’t really like the idea of having the three of them fly into a sudden rage—with me being the bearer of bad tidings and all. Of course, I didn’t really think any of them would hurt me, but . . .
I tried to think of an indirect approach and got nowhere.
“Suggestions, Loiosh?”
“Tell ’em straight out, boss. Then teleport.”