I did, but not in time to prevent the other one, who was still alive, from planting her dagger, to the hilt, in my kidney. There was pain such as I had never felt before, and I screamed. A muscle spasm jerked me to my knees and around and down, flat on my stomach, on the blade that was already there, and I only wanted to die quickly and have it over.
For an instant before I got my wish, my face was a few inches from the other assassin’s, blood still streaming from her mouth, her eyes set in a look of grim determination. I suddenly realized that she was an Easterner. That almost hurt more than the rest of it, but then the pain went away, and me with it.
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Seven
“I guess there’s just a time for doing dumb things.”
Lingering trace of a fading green light, but no eyes to see it with. Memory like a well, awareness like a bucket—but who pulls the rope? It occurred to me that “me” had occurred. Existence without sensation, and the bucket hadn’t yet reached the water.
I knew what “sight” was when it came, and I found myself staring into a pair of bright round things that I eventually realized were “eyes.” They floated in gray fog and seemed to see me. That must be significant. “Brown” occurred to me, looking at the eyes, at about the same moment that I saw a face fitting around them. Looking at the face, other terms came to mind. “Little girl” was one. “Cute” was another. And “somber.”
I wondered if she were human or Dragaeran, and realized that more of me had returned.
She studied me. I wondered what she was seeing. Her mouth opened and sound issued forth. I realized that I’d been hearing the sounds for quite some “time” and had not been aware of it. The sounds were utterly dead, as if in a room that was completely without echo.
“Uncle Vlad?” she said again, but it registered this time.
Two words. “Uncle” and “Vlad.” Both had meaning. “Vlad” meant me, and I was delighted with the discovery. “Uncle” had something to do with family, but I wasn’t sure exactly what. I thought about the words more, deeming them important. As I did so, a wave of green light seemed to come from all around me, bathing me for a moment, then stopping.
I realized that this, too, had been going on for some time.
Sensations multiplied, and I felt that I had a body again. I blinked, and found it delightful. I licked my lips, and that was nice, too. I turned my attention back to the little girl, who was still watching me closely. She seemed relieved now.
“Uncle Vlad?” she said, like a litany.
Oh, that’s right. “Vlad.” Me. I was dead. The Easterner, the pain, Loiosh. But he’d been alive, so maybe . . .
“Uncle Vlad?”
I shook my head, and tried speaking. “I don’t know you,” I said, and heard that my voice was strong. She nodded enthusiastically.
“I know,” she said. “But Mommy’s awful worried about you. Won’t you please come back?”
“Come back?” I said. “I don’t understand.”
“Mommy’s been trying to find you.”
“She sent you to look for me?”
She shook her head. “She doesn’t know I’m here. But she’s really worried, Uncle Vlad. And so’s Uncle ’Rollan. Won’t you please come back?”
Who could refuse a request like that? “Where am I, then?”
She cocked her head to the side, looking puzzled. Her mouth opened and closed a few times. Then she shook her head again. “I don’t know, but just come back, okay?”
“Sure, honey, but how?”
“Follow me,” she said.
“Okay.” She moved away a few feet, stopped, and looked back. I found myself moving toward her, but I didn’t seem to be walking. I had no sense of how fast we were traveling, or from where to where, but the grayness gradually darkened.
“Who are you?” I asked her as we moved.
“Devera,” she said.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Devera.”
She turned back to me and giggled, lighting up her face. “We’ve met before, Uncle Vlad.” That triggered some more memories that I couldn’t quite place, but—
“Oh, Uncle Vlad?”
“Yes, Devera?”
“When we get back, don’t mention to Mommy that you saw me, okay?”
“Okay. Why not? Aren’t you supposed to be here?”
“Well, not exactly. You see, I haven’t really been born yet . . . .”
Wherever we were became completely black, and I felt suddenly isolated. Then, once more, I was bathed in green light, and I remember no more.
. . . the dzur had scored a long scratch in the jhereg’s wing. The jhereg’s jaws were going for the dzur’s neck, but the dzur nearly had its mouth around the long, snakelike neck of the jhereg. The jhereg was of the normal breed, not one of the nonpoisonous giant ones that dwelt above Deathsgate Falls, yet it was one of the largest I had ever seen, and should be able to give a good fight to—I blinked. The scene hadn’t changed. The orange-red sky was right, but I realized that I was inside, on a bed, in fact. I was looking at a painting that filled the ceiling above me. Someone’s idea of a joke, no doubt, to have me wake up to that sight. Could I view the painting so that it appeared the jhereg was winning? I could and did. It was a nice painting. I took a deep breath and—I was alive!
I turned my head and looked around the room. It was spacious, as far as I was concerned—twenty-two and a half feet in the direction of the bed, maybe fourteen the other way. No windows, but a nice circulation of air. There was a fireplace centered in the wall my feet pointed to, with a cozy little fire crackling away in it and sending occasional sparks into the room. I twisted and saw that a door was centered in the other wall. Black candles were scattered throughout, providing most of the light. Yet there were enough of them to give the room a bright appearance despite the black walls.
Black, black, black. The color of sorcery. Lord Morrolan, Castle Black. Yet, he wouldn’t have used black candles unless he were doing witchcraft, and I felt no traces of a spell. Nor would he have a painting like that. So—Dzur Mountain, of course.
I leaned back against the pillow (goose feathers, a luxury!) and slowly set about moving my limbs. I made each one move, and each finger and toe. They responded normally, but it took some effort. I saw my cloak and clothing neatly folded on a stand three feet from my head. I noticed with amusement that whoever had undressed me had left Spellbreaker wrapped around my wrist, which was why I hadn’t immediately felt undressed.
I heaved myself to a sitting position. I became aware of a general sense of weakness and pains throughout my body. I welcomed them, as more signs of life, and swung my feet over the edge of the bed.
“Going to say hello, boss?”
I spun, and spotted Loiosh high on top of a tall dresser in the far corner of the room. “Good morning, or whatever it is. I’m glad you’re all right.”
He flew down and landed on my shoulder; licked my ear. “That goes double for me, boss.”
There was a chamber pot in one corner of the room, which I made a much-needed use of. I dressed slowly, finding several of my more obvious weapons neatly laid out beneath the cloak. Most of the contents of the cloak itself hadn’t been disturbed. Dressing was painful. Enough said.
There was a soft clap at the door about the time I finished. “Come in.”