Vlad Taltos - Phoenix Part 30

"Yes. You always do."

Morrolan and Sethra joined us before I could ask how she meant that.

I said, "This is good-bye, for a while."

"So I had gathered," said Morrolan. "I wish you well on your travels. I shall watch over your grandfather for you."

"Thanks."

Sethra said, "I expect we will meet again, in this life or the next."

"The next," I said. "One way or another, it will be a different life."

"Yes," said Sethra. "You're right. I took my leave without another word.

Last of all I spoke with my grandfather. "You look well," he said.

"Thanks."

For the first time in my adult life, I was looking like an Easterner, not a Jhereg. I still had the same cloak, but it was now dyed green. I wore loose darrskin boots, green pants, and a light blue tunic.

"It's necessary, under the circ.u.mstances," I said.

"What circ.u.mstances are these, Vladimir?"

I explained what had happened, what I was doing about it, and what I thought he should do. He shook his head. "To be a ruler, Vladimir, even of a small place, it is a skill that I have not."

"Noish-pa, you don't have to rule. You don't have to do anything.

There are about a hundred families of Teckla there, and a few Easterners, and they've been getting on quite well without anyone ruling them. You need not change anything. A stipend from the Empire goes with the t.i.tle, and it is sufficient for you to live on. All you have to do is go to Lake Szurke and live in the manor, or castle, or whatever it is. If the peasants come to you with problems, I have no doubt you can suggest solutions, but they probably won't. You can continue your work there with no one to bother you. Where else will you go? And it is just west of Pepperfields, which is in the mountains west of Fenario, so you will be close to our homeland. What could be better?"

He frowned, and at last he nodded. "But what about you?" he said.

"I don't know. I am running for my life now. If things change, and I feel it safe to return, I will."

"And your wife?"

"That's over," I said.

"Is it?"

I tried to meet his eyes, but couldn't. "For now, it is. Maybe later, maybe after time has pa.s.sed, but not now."

"I threw the sands last night, Vladimir. For the first time in twenty years, I threw the sands and asked what would become of me. I felt the power, and I read the symbols, and they said I would live to hold a greatgrandchild in my arms. Do you think the sands were wrong?"

"I don't know," I said. "I hope they were not. But if you are to see a grandchild, I must be alive to conceive one."

He nodded. "Very well, Vladimir. Do what you must. I will go to this place, and I will live there, so you will know where to find me when you can."

"When I can," I said. "When I can."

EPILOGUE.

THERE WAS A place I remembered well, that meant nothing to anyone else, but a great deal to me. It was engraved forever in my memory, from the isolated patches of bright blue safe-weed among the tall gra.s.ses to the bent oak that loomed over the clearing as if to keep it safe from predators above; from the thorns of the wild winesage to the even slope of the wallbush, pointing away from the nearest water. Though barely more than a child when I'd been there before, I knew it; it had etched itself into my memory with a fine detail that I usually saved for the locations of hidden weapons on enemies or the daily habits of targets. Nature, in all its varied beauties and horrors, had hitherto been lost on me, save for this place.

Perhaps now that would change.

Somewhere to my left came the sn.i.g.g.e.ring laugh of a chreotha, spitting out its weaving to trap a norska or a squirrel. A bring-me- home, growing from the oak, whipped back and forth in the chilly breeze like a lazy whip: woosh-snap, woosh-snap. A daythief, somewhere above me, sobbed in counterpoint to the chreotha. The breeze made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and I s.h.i.+vered pleasantly. It was just time for lilacs to loom; they were plentiful here and the scent mixed well with the blossoming of a stonefruit tree that hid itself behind the wallbush, outside the clearing.

It came to mind that it was spring, and that I'd never had much cause to notice the seasons before.

If my life as an a.s.sa.s.sin had a beginning, perhaps it was here, where I'd found the egg that would grow to become my familiar. If my life as an a.s.sa.s.sin had an end, it would be here as well. If it turned out to be only an interruption, well, so be it.

Loiosh and Rocza were quiet. Save for them, I was alone. Adrilankha was far away, and there were no cities for miles in any direction.

Alone.

Except for the two jhereg, no one was here to see me, or to speak with me, and the Phoenix Stone guarded my thoughts from any who would seek me that way. I had rendered myself invisible to sorcery. The hardware I carried, dozens of knives, darts, and other nasty things, seemed absurd here. I had no doubt that, as time went on, I'd gradually diminish their number, perhaps to nothing. On my back I carried what clothing I'd need for the changing of the seasons, a spare pair of boots, and a few odds and ends that might come in useful.

Just the three of us now.

It would be easy to give in to self-pity, but I would only have been lying to myself. It was a time of change, a time of growth, as exciting, in its own way, as the moment just before the target would walk up to the spot I'd selected for his execution.

What would happen? Who would I become? Would the Jhereg find a way to track me down? Would love, somehow, emerge from the ashes to which we'd reduced it? Or even spring up elsewhere, unexpected?

I felt a smile on my face, and didn't try to second-guess it.

I began walking west.

About the Author.

Steven Brust was born on November 23, 1955, after which his parents gave up on the notion of having children. He used to tend bar, drive an ice-cream truck, wash dishes, cook food, and program computers, which ought to be enough jobs to prove a point of some sort. He has four children, named Corwin, Aliera, Carolyn, and Toni, which ought to be enough children to prove a point of some sort. He lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, along with a dog named Miska the Couchman, a cat named Shadow, and a dove named Astarte, which ought to be enough pets to prove a point of some sort. When he isn't writing, he plays drums and writes songs for a rock 'n' roll band called Cats Laughing that also includes novelist Emma Bull, along with Adam Stemple, who arranges music for children's books and whose mother is writer Jane Yolen, which ought to give it enough fantasy connections to prove a point of some sort. If you'd like more information about Cats Laughing, send a self-addressed, stamped envelope to: Cats Laughing Box 7253 Minneapolis, MN 55407 If you'd like more information about Mr. Brust, feel free to make it up.