A short time later, the first returned along with Rynend himself, who could have been from the same family as his bodyguards, except that the cut of his clothes spoke of substantially greater wealth.
“What do you want?” he said, handing back her token.
She accepted it and put it away. “A few minutes of your time, if you can spare it.”
“Concerning what?
“Imperial politics, conspiracies, saving your life and reputation.”
He frowned and studied her. “I recognized the seal. But you look like a … who are you, anyway?”
“I’m called the Sword of the Jhereg.” She couldn’t help being pleased to see his eyes widen.
“Well,” he said. “Come in.”
She followed him into a room that could have belonged to a successful advocate: dark woodwork, small sculptures on ledges, cut-glass decanters, a very large desk, bookcases full of heavy-looking volumes. With the delicacy of an Issola, Rynend sat in front of the desk, rather than behind it, motioning Norathar to a stuffed chair facing it. There was a small table between them; he asked if she wanted wine, or perhaps an ice.
“I don’t want to take up that much of your time,” she said.
“All right then. I’m listening.”
“Just to state the obvious, I’m not here to do you any favors. It’s a case of my interest running with yours.”
“What are we talking about?”
“The failed assassination attempt on Lord Taltos, and the catastrophe that will fall on your head when your assassin is found and the Empire traces it back to you.”
There was not a flicker of response from him, unless his blank expression itself was a response; Norathar was inclined to think it was. She let the silence build itself. Eventually Rynend said, “Not that I’m admitting anything, but—failed?”
Norathar forced herself not to smile. First try! “Five people showed up to attack Lord Taltos an hour ago. He wasn’t there. Four of them are dead. None of them were especially good, by the way.”
“What do you want?”
“First, let’s be clear on your situation. The Empire is liable to find out what happened, and why. If—as I suspect—there really is no threat from the Jenoine, then think about all of the expense and disruption this has caused, and consider how they’ll feel when they put it together.”
“Are you threatening to go to the Empire?”
“No. I’ve no need to go to the Empire. They’ll investigate and either learn about you, or they won’t learn and will take it out on the Organization. Then what will your position be?”
Rynend smiled without humor. “You making an offer?”
“Yes. I keep your name out of it, of course. And I can’t guarantee that the Empire will be satisfied with what I give them, but I think it’s a good possibility.”
“What are you going to give them?”
“The body of the guy who put it all together. I know it wasn’t you. You don’t work on that level.”
“His body.”
Norathar nodded.
“I see. And how will they know he’s the guy who did it?”
I’m still working that out, she thought. “You’ll have to trust me on that.”
“Trust you.”
Norathar nodded.
“Well, you have a good reputation. And I don’t have much choice.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“No need. What do you want?”
“Who did it?”
“No, I mean: What is it you want for clearing this matter up for me?”
“Oh. That’s personal. I have my own reasons; you owe me nothing.”
He didn’t even pause. “His name is Dathaani.”
“How do I know he’s the one?”
“You’ll have to trust me.”
Norathar frowned. “Give me something.”
“I’ve nothing to give. Have someone talk to him, drop some hints and see how he reacts.”
“It’s a possibility.”
“I got nothing else.”
“All right. Where is he?”
“His home is on Garden, in the Cliffs. But he’s more likely to be at an abandoned inn on Newalter and Slate. That’s his rendezvous during the operation.”
Norathar stood. “I know the place. All right. If everything works out, I won’t be in touch.”
Rynend rose and nodded. “Then I look forward to not hearing from you.”
He escorted her to the door. She walked a hundred feet down the street and teleported.
Cawti was still waiting on the bench. Norathar approached her.
“What are you looking at?” said Cawti.
“Trying to decide if you’re pale.”
“Compared to whom?”
“Compared to how you look when you haven’t lost blood.”
“I’m fine.”
“All right.”
“Shall we take a coach?”
“Why not ride in comfort?”
Cawti took a step, then hesitated. “Norathar?”
“Hmmm?”
“Is this going to leave you vulnerable?”
“What do you mean?”
“Will it give the Jhereg leverage on you? They can threaten to tell what you’ve done—”
“They’re smart enough to know what will happen if they threaten me.”
Cawti nodded.
Norathar checked the time and said, “Sixteen minutes after the hour. One and six is seven.”
Cawti nodded, and they went to the seventh coach in line, earning dirty looks from the first six coachmen. They climbed in; the poor coachman was so startled that he had been selected that he had no chance to open the door for them, and only barely remembered to close it. Norathar gave him the streets.
The coach shook as the coachman climbed into his seat; then he made the “yip-ha” of his profession, and the team of horses—Norathar had thought they looked tired—put the coach into motion.
Newalter and Slate, she thought. I know the area. It’s just over the Stone Bridge, near the old refinery. Not much Jhereg activity. Not much of anything, in fact. She looked at Cawti, who was looking at her, probably thinking the same thing. Cawti’s hands were in her lap, but a finger tapped the hilt of the dagger at her left hip.
It was a long ride; they settled in. Norathar faced forward, Cawti sat facing her. As they passed through Little Deathgate the coachman whistled, and the horses began to trot. Norathar chuckled, and noticed Cawti doing the same. At least he didn’t drive around it, she thought.
“You know the area better than me,” said Cawti. “When we arrive, what will we find?”
“Not much, anymore. There was a refinery there, years ago. It blew up.”
“I remember hearing about that.”
Norathar nodded. “No one lives there, few go there. The inn is called Antlers. I doubt it does any business, except for letting out the space to private parties once in a while.”
“Dathaani,” said Cawti.
Norathar nodded.
“You’ve heard of him?”
“The name sounds familiar, but I can’t recall from where.”
“We could take some time to learn about him,” said Cawti.
“We could,” said Norathar. “Except that we risk Her Majesty learning his name before we can act.”
“I keep forgetting that you care about that now.”
Norathar nodded, accepting the words at face value.
“So how do we play it?” asked her partner. “Make the body vanish? The Empire won’t be able to learn anything if he just vanishes.”