Dead. He had taken an instant dislike to Morrolan because Morrolan had the bad taste to be traveling with me, which should give you an idea of how Baritt and I had hit it off.
I continued, “I assume it isn’t a request for sympathy that led to your invitation.”
“You are correct.”
“Well?”
He turned his head to the side and looked at me quizzically. “What is it you gave me, Vlad?”
I laughed. “Is that it? Is that what this is all about?”
“Actually, no. I’m just curious.”
“Oh. Well, remain curious.” I had, in fact, injected him with the blood of a goddess for reasons too complicated to explain
now, and, at the time, I was in no condition to explain anything.
“As you wish. Baritt, as I say, died. In going through his possessions—”
“What? Already? He can’t have been brought to Deathgate yet.”
“And—?”
“Well, that seems awful quick for you long-lived types.”
“There are reasons.”
“You’re just full of information, aren’t you?”
“Were I to tell you matters pertaining to the internal politics of the House of the Dragon I should only weary you. And I should then have to kill you for knowing. So my thought was not to trouble you with such information.”
“A good thought,” I said.
Loiosh shifted on my shoulder, evidently getting restless. “As I was saying, in going through his possessions, certain items were discovered.”
He stopped. I waited. He resumed.
“He had a large collection of Morganti weapons. A large collection. Hundreds of them.”
I repressed a shiver. “I suppose the reason he had them is none of my business, too.”
“That is correct. And, in any case, I don’t know.”
“Well then, what about them?”
“I spent a good portion of yesterday inspecting them. I have an interest in such things.”
“Figures.”
His eyes narrowed for a moment, then he evidently decided to ignore it. “Such weapons,” he went on, “represent power. Some covet power, some are threatened by others coveting power.”
“Which are you?”
“The former.”
“I knew that,” I said. “I didn’t expect you to admit it.”
“Why not?”
I couldn’t answer that so I didn’t. “Go on,” I said. “Who’s the enemy?”
“You are perspicacious.”
“Yeah, but my physicker says it can be treated.”
“ He means you’re perceptive, Boss.”
“I know that, Loiosh.”
“Yes,” said Morrolan. “I believe that I am likely to come into conflict with someone over possession of these weapons.”
“Who might that be?”
“I don’t know. There are several possibilities. The likeliest is—well, it doesn’t matter.”
“That’s helpful.”
“For what I want from you, you don’t need to know.”
“That’s fortunate. Well, what do you want then?”
“I want you to arrange for the stolen weapons to be traced.”
“Some weapons have been stolen?”
“Not yet,” he said.
“I see. How certain are you?”
“Reasonably.”
“Why?”
“That, too, is unimportant. I will be protecting them, as will various others. Whoever wishes to steal one or more will have to hire an expert thief, and that means the Jhereg, and that means—”
“I might be able to find out what’s become of it. I see.”
“Boss, this could get you into trouble.”
“I know.”
I sat back and looked at Morrolan. He held my gaze. After a moment I said, “That isn’t at all the sort of thing I’m any good at, Morrolan. And, to tell you the truth, if I did find out, I don’t believe I could bring myself to tell you. It’s a Jhereg thing, you know?”
“I believe I do, yes.” He frowned and seemed to be considering. “On the other hand,” he said, “if I understand how you—
that is, how the Jhereg—work, whoever did the stealing would be unlikely to be more than a tool, hired by someone else, is that correct?”
“Yes,” I said, not terribly happy about where this was going.
“Well then, could you find out—”
“Maybe,” I
I continued, “I assume it isn’t a request for sympathy that led to your invitation.”
“You are correct.”
“Well?”
He turned his head to the side and looked at me quizzically. “What is it you gave me, Vlad?”
I laughed. “Is that it? Is that what this is all about?”
“Actually, no. I’m just curious.”
“Oh. Well, remain curious.” I had, in fact, injected him with the blood of a goddess for reasons too complicated to explain
now, and, at the time, I was in no condition to explain anything.
“As you wish. Baritt, as I say, died. In going through his possessions—”
“What? Already? He can’t have been brought to Deathgate yet.”
“And—?”
“Well, that seems awful quick for you long-lived types.”
“There are reasons.”
“You’re just full of information, aren’t you?”
“Were I to tell you matters pertaining to the internal politics of the House of the Dragon I should only weary you. And I should then have to kill you for knowing. So my thought was not to trouble you with such information.”
“A good thought,” I said.
Loiosh shifted on my shoulder, evidently getting restless. “As I was saying, in going through his possessions, certain items were discovered.”
He stopped. I waited. He resumed.
“He had a large collection of Morganti weapons. A large collection. Hundreds of them.”
I repressed a shiver. “I suppose the reason he had them is none of my business, too.”
“That is correct. And, in any case, I don’t know.”
“Well then, what about them?”
“I spent a good portion of yesterday inspecting them. I have an interest in such things.”
“Figures.”
His eyes narrowed for a moment, then he evidently decided to ignore it. “Such weapons,” he went on, “represent power. Some covet power, some are threatened by others coveting power.”
“Which are you?”
“The former.”
“I knew that,” I said. “I didn’t expect you to admit it.”
“Why not?”
I couldn’t answer that so I didn’t. “Go on,” I said. “Who’s the enemy?”
“You are perspicacious.”
“Yeah, but my physicker says it can be treated.”
“ He means you’re perceptive, Boss.”
“I know that, Loiosh.”
“Yes,” said Morrolan. “I believe that I am likely to come into conflict with someone over possession of these weapons.”
“Who might that be?”
“I don’t know. There are several possibilities. The likeliest is—well, it doesn’t matter.”
“That’s helpful.”
“For what I want from you, you don’t need to know.”
“That’s fortunate. Well, what do you want then?”
“I want you to arrange for the stolen weapons to be traced.”
“Some weapons have been stolen?”
“Not yet,” he said.
“I see. How certain are you?”
“Reasonably.”
“Why?”
“That, too, is unimportant. I will be protecting them, as will various others. Whoever wishes to steal one or more will have to hire an expert thief, and that means the Jhereg, and that means—”
“I might be able to find out what’s become of it. I see.”
“Boss, this could get you into trouble.”
“I know.”
I sat back and looked at Morrolan. He held my gaze. After a moment I said, “That isn’t at all the sort of thing I’m any good at, Morrolan. And, to tell you the truth, if I did find out, I don’t believe I could bring myself to tell you. It’s a Jhereg thing, you know?”
“I believe I do, yes.” He frowned and seemed to be considering. “On the other hand,” he said, “if I understand how you—
that is, how the Jhereg—work, whoever did the stealing would be unlikely to be more than a tool, hired by someone else, is that correct?”
“Yes,” I said, not terribly happy about where this was going.
“Well then, could you find out—”
“Maybe,” I