The Book of Taltos Read Free Page B

hell. Who can figure out Dragaerans, anyway?
    I said, “What have you heard?”
    “About what?”
    “Don’t give me that.”
    If he’d played dumb a little longer I’d have bought it, but he said, “Just that you got burned by one of your button-men. Who was it?”
    “It doesn’t matter, Nielar. And it’ll matter even less in a little while.”
    “Right.”
    “See you.”
    I walked out of Nielar’s shop and headed toward South Adrilankha, the Easterner’s ghetto.
    Loiosh, sitting on my left shoulder, said,
“Word is getting around, boss.”
    “I know. I’m going to have to do something about it. If everyone thinks I can be taken, I will be.”
    I kept walking, thinking things over. With any luck at all, Morrolan would be able to steer me toward Quion. Would he be willing to? I didn’t know.
    “Going to visit your grandfather, boss?”
    “No, I don’t think so. Not today.”
    “Then where? No, don’t tell me. A brothel or an inn.”
    “Good guess. An inn.”
    “Who’s going to carry you home?”
    “I’m only going to have one or two.”
    “I’ll bet.”
    “Shut up, Loiosh.”
    “Boss, you are going to Castle Black, aren’t you?”
    “If I can work up the nerve. Now let me think.”
    It started drizzling about then. I drew on my link to the Imperial Orb andcreated an invisible shield, setting it up over my head. It was an easy spell. Most passersby I saw had done the same. The few exceptions, mostly of the House of the Teckla, headed for doorways to wait it out or else got wet. The streets became very muddy, and I made a mental note to allow time to clean my boots. There must be sorcery that can do that. I’ll have to learn it one of these days.
    By the time I had crossed Twovine and entered South Adrilankha the rain had stopped, which was just as well. Very few Easterners are sorcerers, and I didn’t want to call that kind of attention to myself. Of course, I was wearing the grey and black of House Jhereg, and Loiosh riding on my shoulder was enough to proclaim, “Here is a witch!” but there was no need to make matters worse.
    About then, Loiosh caught something of my thoughts and said,
“Wait a minute, boss. Just who do you think you’re leaving behind?”
    “You, chum. Sorry.”
    “Crap. You can’t
—”
    “Yes I can. One does not bring a Jhereg to visit a Dragon lord. At least not on a first visit.”
    “But
—”
    “You’re not expendable, you’re not stupid, and you’re not going.”
    This gave us something to argue about until I reached the place I was looking for, which helped distract me. The thing is, I was really terrified. I very badly wanted not to go, but I couldn’t think of any way out of it. I tried to picture myself showing up there and I couldn’t. Yet, if I didn’t follow up on Quion, my reputation would suffer, and, in the Jhereg, reputation means money and safety.
    I found Ferenk’s, which was right where I’d been told it would be, and I stepped inside, pausing to let my eyes adjust to the relative darkness. I’d never been there before, but my grandfather had recommended it as
the
place to find good Fenarian brandy.
    One thing that shed a great deal of light on how Dragaerans think was when I realized that they had no term for brandy, even though they had the drink. They called it wine, and, I guess, just had to know the bottler to decide how strong it was and what it tasted like. To me, brandy and wine aren’t even close in taste, and maybe they aren’t to Dragaerans, either. The thingis, Dragaerans don’t care if they taste different, or that the process of making one has almost nothing to do with the process of making the other; the point is, they are alcoholic drinks made from fruit, so they must be the same thing. Interesting, no?
    Easterners don’t have that problem. Ferenk’s especially didn’t have that problem. One entire wall behind the long, dark, hardwood bar was filled with different Fenarian brandies, about half of them peach. I