finally done, I had a brief interaction with the host, who wanted extra money for the room. He fumed and ranted. I gave him the cold look. The cold look won the argument. Lucky for him: if it hadn’t, I’d have glared. Then I set off once more for Malak Circle, aware of how stupid it was for me to be there. But a lot of what I needed to do was nearby, so it seemed a reasonable place to start what I figured was liable to be a fruitless search.
“I need a base of operations, Loiosh. Somewhere I can have a reasonable chance the Jhereg won’t find me, and that’s close enough to the action that I don’t waste all of my time going from place to place.”
“So you’ve been saying, Boss.”
“Yeah.”
“For months.”
“Yeah. But now it’s a bit more urgent.”
“Good. Then we should find a place with no problem, right?”
“You aren’t helping.”
I hung around the fountain, trying to duck into corners, while I thought about it. This really was just about the worst place for me, so close to my old office—
“Boss, no!”
“Loiosh, yes. They’ll never look for me there.”
“No, because they won’t have to.”
“It’ll work, Loiosh. Have I ever been wrong about this kind of thing?”
“You mean this week?”
“And if they do figure it out—”
“When.”
“It’ll still be damned bloody hard for them to get me there. It’s perfect.”
“Except that you’ll have to leave, and you don’t dare teleport.”
“There’s the tunnel, remember?”
“And you’re betting everything that no one knows about it?”
“Not everything. Just most things.”
“Boss, this is just stupid.”
If he was going to be unreasonable, there was no point in continuing the conversation. I took us down the street, skirting the edge of Copper Lane until the old place was just opposite. A deep breath, a careful look around, and then across the street to a little storefront that still sold the “Summer Wind” and “Sweetwater” strains of dreamgrass for the best price in this part of the city.
It was a small place, and the smell would have been pleasant if it weren’t quite so intense; but I was only in for the space of a breath before going through the curtained doorway and into the back room with its tables and chairs and cards and sweat and an enforcer giving me a cold stare that looked like it could turn into a glare at any second. I couldn’t let that happen, I might not be able to stand it. So with everyone staring at me, I walked up to him and said, very softly, “Tell Kragar that Vlad is here.” I smiled at him. “If you don’t mind.” My hands were well clear of my body.
He hesitated, then looked over at his partner, who hadn’t heard me. There was a moment when, I assume, they were speaking psychically, then they both shrugged and the one I’d spoken to turned to me and said, “Wait here.”
I nodded and set about doing so. It wasn’t that hard, except for the constant itch between my shoulder blades.
I didn’t have to wait long. Lord Tough-guy came down and, stepping aside, motioned me toward the stairs up to what had once been my office. I had to walk right past him, giving him a shot at my back from eight inches. Yes, Loiosh and Rocza were on full alert; and yes, this operation was controlled by someone I trusted completely.
But making that walk still wasn’t easy.
My courage was rewarded at the top of the stairs by a grin wrapped around the face of an old friend.
“Vlad!”
“Kragar. I can’t believe I can see you.”
“Come in! Klava?”
“Klava,” I said. “May you dwell forever in Barlen’s heaven of musical jewels.”
“Sounds boring.”
He led me past a couple of his enforcers and into his office, calling, “Klava!” as he walked by. I wondered—not for the first time—if he had trouble with no one noticing the orders he gave them. He sat behind my—his—desk; I sat facing it, but I turned the chair so I could stretch my legs out.
“So, how’s
“I need a base of operations, Loiosh. Somewhere I can have a reasonable chance the Jhereg won’t find me, and that’s close enough to the action that I don’t waste all of my time going from place to place.”
“So you’ve been saying, Boss.”
“Yeah.”
“For months.”
“Yeah. But now it’s a bit more urgent.”
“Good. Then we should find a place with no problem, right?”
“You aren’t helping.”
I hung around the fountain, trying to duck into corners, while I thought about it. This really was just about the worst place for me, so close to my old office—
“Boss, no!”
“Loiosh, yes. They’ll never look for me there.”
“No, because they won’t have to.”
“It’ll work, Loiosh. Have I ever been wrong about this kind of thing?”
“You mean this week?”
“And if they do figure it out—”
“When.”
“It’ll still be damned bloody hard for them to get me there. It’s perfect.”
“Except that you’ll have to leave, and you don’t dare teleport.”
“There’s the tunnel, remember?”
“And you’re betting everything that no one knows about it?”
“Not everything. Just most things.”
“Boss, this is just stupid.”
If he was going to be unreasonable, there was no point in continuing the conversation. I took us down the street, skirting the edge of Copper Lane until the old place was just opposite. A deep breath, a careful look around, and then across the street to a little storefront that still sold the “Summer Wind” and “Sweetwater” strains of dreamgrass for the best price in this part of the city.
It was a small place, and the smell would have been pleasant if it weren’t quite so intense; but I was only in for the space of a breath before going through the curtained doorway and into the back room with its tables and chairs and cards and sweat and an enforcer giving me a cold stare that looked like it could turn into a glare at any second. I couldn’t let that happen, I might not be able to stand it. So with everyone staring at me, I walked up to him and said, very softly, “Tell Kragar that Vlad is here.” I smiled at him. “If you don’t mind.” My hands were well clear of my body.
He hesitated, then looked over at his partner, who hadn’t heard me. There was a moment when, I assume, they were speaking psychically, then they both shrugged and the one I’d spoken to turned to me and said, “Wait here.”
I nodded and set about doing so. It wasn’t that hard, except for the constant itch between my shoulder blades.
I didn’t have to wait long. Lord Tough-guy came down and, stepping aside, motioned me toward the stairs up to what had once been my office. I had to walk right past him, giving him a shot at my back from eight inches. Yes, Loiosh and Rocza were on full alert; and yes, this operation was controlled by someone I trusted completely.
But making that walk still wasn’t easy.
My courage was rewarded at the top of the stairs by a grin wrapped around the face of an old friend.
“Vlad!”
“Kragar. I can’t believe I can see you.”
“Come in! Klava?”
“Klava,” I said. “May you dwell forever in Barlen’s heaven of musical jewels.”
“Sounds boring.”
He led me past a couple of his enforcers and into his office, calling, “Klava!” as he walked by. I wondered—not for the first time—if he had trouble with no one noticing the orders he gave them. He sat behind my—his—desk; I sat facing it, but I turned the chair so I could stretch my legs out.
“So, how’s
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