Free Dragon (Vlad Taltos) by Steven Brust Page A

rocky and brown, with a few sparse bits of grass sticking up here and there; the stream, as far as I could tell, was little more than a trickle of water.
    I concentrated; as I’d told Morrolan, I wasn’t all that good at
fixing locations for a teleport, but at last I felt reasonably certain I wasn’t likely to send myself off to the middle of the ocean or forty feet under the ground. I said, “Got it.”
    “The seventh hour.”
    “Why there?”
    “There will be an event taking place that you may wish to witness.”
    I thought about interrogating him some more, but decided it was pointless. “I’ll be there,” I told him .
    “What do you suppose that was about, Boss?”
    “I imagine I’ll find out.”
    “Do you trust him?”
    “Within limits. I doubt he wants to have me killed.”
    “Oh, good. Nothing to worry about, then.”
    I handled a few things around the office, then went down into what I called the “lab” and performed a very minor and easy ritual to help along the healing in my side—just a few instructions to the damaged parts suggesting they go ahead and heal; the indication of success was how hungry I was after, so I went over to the Garden House and had a big plate of egg noodles with squid and leeks to help the process along. Then I headed to Turningham’s and looked for a book, found a historical romance by Munnis that I hadn’t read, bought it, went home, read the first page, and set it aside for later. I discovered I was hungry again, and that my side was itching and feeling better, all of which meant my spell really was working. I’ve performed spells of that type, oh, I don’t know, maybe a score of times, yet I still get a little thrill, almost of surprise, when I see evidence of it working; like I’m putting one over on nature.
    I ate some bread and cheese, took a nap, and Loiosh woke me up a few minutes before the seventh hour.
    I managed the teleport myself, without too much difficulty, and arrived right at the appointed hour. The spot at which Morrolan had me appear was a quarter of a mile away from a mass of humanity, all gathered together directly in front of the sheer cliff, which stretched up until its top was lost in the overcast. It
was much bigger than I had guessed. I studied it until my neck hurt, then, as my gaze returned to what appeared to be a gathering of several hundred people, at which I could see new arrivals teleporting in at an alarming rate, Loiosh made a squeaking sound and dived into my cloak.
    “What—?”
    “Didn’t you see them, Boss?”
    “No, I was looking at—”
    “Giant Jhereg, just like at Deathgate Falls.”
    “We can’t be anywhere near there.”
    “Tell them that.”
    I looked up again, and, yeah, there were a few shapes that occasionally dipped out of the overcast, circled, and vanished again.
    “They’re very graceful, Loiosh. You should watch.”
    “You should drown in a chamberpot, Boss.”
    “Greetings, Vlad.”
    I jumped a little, then turned around and said, “Hello, Morrolan. What’s the occasion?”
    “A ceremony to honor Baritt’s passing over Deathgate Falls.”
    “What? We’re near there?”
    “No. But his tomb will be here.”
    “His tomb? I don’t … how can he have a tomb if his body is going over the Falls?”
    “Well, it’s not a tomb exactly. Call it a cenotaph. Or a monument. But this mountain has been selected as the place to be consecrated to his memory.”
    “He gets a whole mountain?”
    “He earned it.”
    “What do I have to do to earn a mountain?”
    Morrolan chose not to answer. He said, “I should appear at the ceremony. Would you like to come along?”
    “Is that a joke? As what?”
    “My retainer. I have the right to have anyone I choose in my suite.”
    “An Easterner? A Jhereg?”
    “Certainly.”
    “You have something in mind, don’t you?”
    “Of course.”
    “Want to let me in on it, in my capacity as the device to be exploited?”
    “I’d rather surprise