The Book of Jhereg Read Free Page A

my neck.
    “We don’t need fighting in here, punk,” said a voice behind my right ear. My adrenaline was up, and I almost turned around to smash the bastard across the face, despite the knife he held against me. But the training I’d been givingmyself came to the fore, and I heard myself saying, evenly, “My apologies, good sir. I assure you it won’t happen again.” I lowered my right arm and dropped the chair leg. There was no point in trying to explain to him what had happened if he hadn’t seen it—and even less if he had. When there’s a problem, and an Easterner is involved, there is no question about who is at fault. I didn’t move.
    Presently I felt the knife being taken off of my neck.
    “You’re right,” said the voice. “It won’t happen again. Get out of here and don’t come back.”
    I nodded once. I left my money on the table where it was, and walked out without looking back.
    I settled down somewhat on my way home. The incident bothered me. I shouldn’t have hit the guy at all, I decided. I had let my fear take over, and I reacted without thinking. This would never do.
    As I climbed up the stairs to my apartment, my mind returned to the old problem of what I was going to do. I’d left almost a gold Imperial’s worth of coins lying on the table, and that was half a week’s rent. It seemed that my only talents were witchcraft and beating up Dragaerans. I didn’t think that there was much of a market for either.
    I opened the door and relaxed on the couch. I took out the egg, to hold it for a while as a means of soothing my nerves—and stopped. There was a small crack in it. It must have happened when I banged against the table, although I’d thought it had escaped harm.
    It was then and there, at the age of sixteen, that I learned the meaning of anger. A sheet of white fire flashed through me, as I remembered the face of the Dragaeran who had pushed the other into me, killing my egg. I learned that I was capable of murder. I intended to seek out that bastard, and I was going to kill him. There was no question in my mind that he was a dead man. I stood up and headed for the door, still holding the egg—
    —And stopped again.
    Something was wrong. I had a feeling, which I couldn’t pin down, that was getting through the barrier of my anger. What was it? I looked down at the egg, and suddenly understood in a burst of relief.
    Although not consciously aware of it, I had somehow gotten a psionic link to the being inside the egg. I was feeling something through it, on some level, and that meant that my jhereg was still alive.
    Anger drained from me as quickly as it had come, leaving me trembling. I went back into the middle of the room and set the egg down on the floor, as softly as I could.
    I felt along the link, and identified the emotion I was getting from it: determination. Just raw, blind purpose. I had never been in contact with such singleness of aim. It was startling that a thing that small could produce such high-powered emotion.
    I stepped away from it, I suppose from some unreasoning desire to “give it air,” and watched. There was an almost inaudible “tap, tap,” and the crackwidened. Then, suddenly, the egg split apart, and this ugly little reptile was lying amid broken shell fragments. Its wings were tightly drawn up against it, and its eyes were closed. The wings were no larger than my thumb.
    It—
It? He
, I suddenly knew. He tried to move; failed. Tried to move again, and got nowhere. I felt that I should be doing something, although I had no idea what. His eyes opened, but didn’t seem to focus on anything. His head lay on the floor, then moved—pitifully.
    I felt along my link to him, and now felt confusion and a little fear. I tried to send back feelings of warmth, protection, and all that good stuff. Slowly, I walked up and reached for him.
    Surprisingly, he must have seen my motion. He obviously didn’t connect the movement with the thoughts he was getting from