'Perhaps I'd better attend to it,' said Anders. 'I wouldn't want you to be troubled with remembering exactly how much you sold the ruby for. It might damage our friendship if you accidentally reported that you'd sold the gem for, say, six hundred crowns when you'd really sold it for seven or eight hundred.'
'I would never-'
'I'm sure. Give me the gem, and I'll make sure you don't.' Anders held out his hand.
Jack thought things over for a moment, fuming over the fact that Anders didn't trust him. The fact that he'd entertained the exact scheme suggested by the Northman was entirely beside the point. On the other hand, he could generally count on Anders to do exactly what he said he was going to do. The Northman was about as honest a cutthroat as you could find. In any event, Jack had several other prospects for success, and he never knew when he might need a big, strong swordsman close at hand.
'Very well, then,' he said with a sigh. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the small, hard bundle wrapped in black cloth. 'In all seriousness, I think you would be well-advised to wait a few days before you try to sell it.'
Anders grinned. 'I'm surprised, Jack. I thought I was going to have to beat you severely in order to make you see things my way.' He scooped up the silk-wrapped ruby with one big, callused fist, then stood and tugged his cowl in place over his face. 'Don't worry about the gem. I'll ride up to Tantras first thing tomorrow to dispose of it.'
Tantras! What that really meant was that Anders was riding out of town with the entire sum of their take from the previous night, and it would take days before Jack knew if he was coming back or not. Trust of that sort was generally foreign to Jack. He managed to paste a feeble smile on his face and nodded.
'That sounds like a good idea,' he said weakly. 'I'll expect your return in four or five days then.'
'Might be a little longer, depending on the spring mud,' the Northman said over his shoulder as he left.
Jack watched him go, frustrated by the completely unacceptable way things had turned out. He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice the two men sitting in the opposite corner rise to their feet and casually meander toward him until they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, towering over him.
'Would you be Jack Ravenwild?' said the first. He was a short, stout fellow with a round, sallow face and a small, pointed goatee. His voice purred like a well-fed cat.
'Don't bother lying,' said the second. 'We already know you are.' This one was tall and lean, with long hands and a longer face. His yellow eyes stared out of deep, dark sockets like small, feral creatures hiding under rocks.
The rogue shook himself out of his self-pity and looked up. 'Why in the world would you ask me who I am then?'
'Perhaps you could tell us where your large friend is going,' the first man said.
'We know that he told you,' the tall man added.
'Who are you, and why do you care?' Jack asked.
'I am called Morgath,' the fat man said. 'My companion is Saerk.'
'Who we are doesn't matter,' Saerk said. 'Who we work for does.'
'We are employed by an organization that provides a type of insurance to various mercantile companies of the city,' Morgath said. 'Last night, one of our clients suffered a small loss. We are investigating his claim, so to speak.'
'They were robbed,' Saerk said. 'By a large, blond-haired Northman and a small rat of a burglar who knew some magic.'
'That is all very interesting,' Jack said, 'but I don't see what it has to do with me.'
'We have reason to believe that you may have a more intimate knowledge of this case-' Morgath said.
'We know you were responsible,' Saerk interrupted.
'— and we expect you to see to the return the stolen property-'
'Or we'll kill you if you don't,' Saerk finished.
Jack looked from the one man to the other. 'If I were the man you were looking for,' he said, 'I would carefully consider your warning. However, I have no idea what you're talking about, I don't have any property of yours or your employer's, and until just a few moments ago, I'd never seen that barbaric fellow in my life. If you'll excuse me?' He stood and started to push past the two.
Morgath and Saerk caught him by the arms and pushed him back down into his seat. 'We're not unreasonable men,' Morgath began with a pained expression. 'In fact, we feel that your talents do you credit. Not very many rogues could have pulled off the stunt you pulled off last night in House Kuldath. We'd rather work with you in a mutually profitable arrangement-'
'— instead of cutting you up like live bait and dumping you in the harbor for the sharks,' Saerk finished. 'You've got three choices, Jack Ravenwild. Sign up, ship out, or sleep with the fishes.' With that, the two thieves sauntered away, smug smiles on their faces.
Jack watched them leave. He picked up the tankard Anders had emptied and swirled it, hoping to find some significant amount of ale left, but the Northman had drained it dry. Then, as the two reached the front door, he muttered a small spell and conjured up an unseen hand. As swift as an arrow Jack directed the invisible presence to the bar and seized a full pitcher of beer. Then he dumped the entire contents on the head of a big, burly longshoreman by the door, dropping the pitcher to the ground right at Morgath's feet.
Roaring in rage, the longshoreman leaped to his feet. 'Why, you-'
Morgath stood staring in amazement at the pitcher. When he looked up, it was just in time to observe the impact of the dockworker's fist on the end of his nose. He howled and fell. Saerk drew a dagger, as did all three of the longshoreman's companions, and in less time than it takes to tell, both thieves were involved in a vicious, violent bar brawl complete with knives, chairs, low blows, and cudgel-armed bouncers wading in to break it up.
Jack laughed aloud and slipped out the back door.
The next morning, Jack woke early, bathed himself in bracing cold water, shaved, and then dressed in his very finest clothes-dark blue hose, a shirt of impeccable Mulhorandi cotton, and a stuffed doublet of green and yellow brocade. He donned a short cape that matched the hose and selected a soft, burgundy cap with a long feather in it. Then he pulled on rakish boots of brushed leather and buckled on his rapier and poignard. Jack attired himself with great care every time he visited Lady Illyth Fleetwood.
The day was clear and bright, by far the best day of the spring so far, but Jack hired a coach despite the fine walking weather. He had the coachman drive him six miles beyond the city walls to Woodenhall Manor, the home of the Fleetwood family. The ride took the better part of an hour, which Jack used to admire the scenery outside the city. As far as he could remember, he'd left the city no more than ten times during his entire life, and he'd never been farther away than Woodenhall. He was a Ravenaar, born and bred.
The coach turned into the lane leading to the Fleetwood Manor, rumbling to a stop in front of an impressive veranda before a palatial estate. Liveried guardsmen stood watch over beautiful grounds and hedged gardens, attending a great wooden manor house that was big enough for dozens of family members and three or four times their number of retainers, guards, servants, and guests.
Jack told the coachman to wait for him, then strode up the steps to the nearest servant and said, 'Please inform Lady Illyth that the Landsgrave Jaer Kell Wildhame humbly requests an audience this morning.'
The servant bowed. 'At once, sir. Would you care to wait in the study?'
Jack made a show of acquiescing. 'That will do quite well, thank you.'
He allowed the servant to show him to a comfortably appointed drawing room and busied himself with examining the decor while he waited patiently. He noted several small items he might pocket and sell later but restrained his larcenous impulses. The Lord Jaer Kell Wildhame was no petty thief!
'Jack! What a surprise!'
Almost dancing in delight, Lady Illyth Fleetwood swept into the room and embraced Jack. Despite the fact that she was well past her schooling and into the years when a noblewoman was expected to be safely married and already raising a child or two of her own, Illyth had never lost the look of girlish enthusiasm and wide-eyed eagerness one might expect of a lady ten years younger. Where other ladies primped for hours over the exact set of
