The Book of Jhereg by Steven Brust Page B

What can I tell you about Sethra Lavode? Those who believe in her say she has lived ten thousand years (some say twenty). Others say she is a myth. Call her life unnatural, feel her undead breath. Color her black for sorcery, color her gray for death.
    She smiled at me. We were all friends here. Morrolan carried Blackwand, which slew a thousand at the Wall of Baritt’s Tomb. Aliera carried Pathfinder, which they say served a power higher than the Empire. Sethra carried Iceflame, which embodied within it the power of Dzur Mountain. I carried myself rather well, thank you.
    We all sat down, making us equals.
    “And so, Vlad,” said Morrolan, “what’s up?”
    “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