Bill slung his arm across the back of his chair as he leaned into the wall. His eyes turned away from Jim and he looked out the window as he thought. Finally he said, ‘That’s a compelling argument. A strange coincidence of events, Jim, has conspired to keep you alive. For the time being, at least. Tell me more.’
‘Coincidence?’
‘After you tell me what brought you here.’
Jim outlined the general deterioration of his network and the betrayal of key agents, without providing information that might prove useful to Bill in his role as ruler of the Council. When he was finished, Bill said nothing for a minute. Then he asked, ‘Both Mockers and royal agents?’
Jim sat back and considered. Then he said, ‘The only Mockers who were turned were also royal agents.’
Again Bill was silent for a while. ‘So, your trouble is all within the straight world, not on your dodgy path.’
‘Apparently.’
‘So you have few, if any, here in Rillanon you can trust?’
‘Also apparently.’
Bill Cutter shifted his weight, leaned forward, and whispered in mock confidentiality, ‘So you’re forced to come begging for favours from ol’ Bill the Butcher?’
‘Something like that, though not really favours, but rather coming to an understanding.’
‘Ah,’ responded Bill slowly. ‘Understanding.’ He almost massaged the word as he spoke it. ‘I do enjoy a good one. What do you have in mind?’
Jim considered how best to make his point. ‘Your buried brothers and grieving widows, we can cut down on that a great deal.’
‘You’ll call off the Crushers?’
‘To a point. You limit your happy gang of cutthroats to stealing, larceny, and selling stolen property, and cut back on the violence and bodies floating in the bay, we may be able to look the other way from time to time and not be so swift to pursue.’
‘Tempting,’ said Bill with a nod. ‘And in exchange for reaching this understanding?’
‘As you’ve observed, there are people within my straight organization who have betrayed me. You are the eyes and ears of the criminal underground in Rillanon. You have contacts in Kesh and Roldem I lack. My contacts in Kesh are compromised, and my-,’ he thought about Franciezka and felt an unexpected pang, wondering for a brief second how she fared, ‘-associates in Roldem are also at risk. From what small intelligence I have gained, the crime associations in both Kesh and Rillanon have so far been ignored by whoever is raising hob with each nation.’
Bill sighed and leaned back against his chair once more. ‘Ah, then, there’s the heart of it. I want more.’
‘What?’
‘I want the Mockers.’
Jim was speechless for a moment, his mind racing. The original Upright Man had been an evil bastard named Don the Chandler, a dockside merchant in Krondor who had used brutality and guile to create the illusion of the powerful, mythic and shadowy personage who controlled all crime in Krondor. He also was Jim’s three times great-grandfather: the legendary Jimmy the Hand had been one of his bastard sons. So in a way, the Mockers had been in Jim’s family for five generations in one form or another. ‘Who will you send to run it?’ asked Jim at last.
Bill gave out with a barking laugh. ‘And I should share that with you because …?’
‘Because it’s a condition of the negotiation.’
‘I have a son, one among many, but one who is especially gifted and bright and he’s a little too anxious for me to visit Lims-Kragma’s Hall so he can take over the Council. If I send him to Krondor …’ He shrugged.
‘You double your criminal empire and remove your most dangerous threat in a single moment.’
‘It’s a difficult situation,’ said Bill. ‘One of the reasons he’s such a threat is I’m fond of the lad and he knows it. Moreover, he also knows his mother would be beside herself if I cut his throat-,’ he shook his head ruefully, ‘- and she can be a force to be reckoned with.’
Jim laughed, then said, ‘Done.’
Bill looked surprised. After a moment, he said, ‘Done?’
‘If we survive this coming war, I am retired, Bill. I’m done with murder and intrigue and betrayal. I would need to install another as Upright Man, so why not your boy?’ He almost laughed. ‘Though I will put conditions on him; how the Mockers survive in on a high level of trust within those who call Mother’s home. I will not have that betrayed.’
‘Well, and done!’ said Bill slapping his hand on the table. He extended it, and Jim shook it in one sharp gesture. ‘Now,’ said the butcher, ‘on the subject of betrayal …’
‘Yes?’
‘I have heard things from both Kesh and Roldem. The Ragged Brotherhood in Kesh is keeping watch on all that occurs within the Upper City and are closely following the ins and outs of Trueblood politics. Likewise, the Shadows in Roldem are painfully aware of the changes there, as the embargo from Kesh has dried up a great deal of their business, though we do manage to keep a certain level of commerce active: Kesh’s fleet is not incorruptible and smugglers are not a priority for them.’
‘So what do you know?’
‘Know? Not much, but I suspect a great deal. To the point, this war makes no sense on any level I can imagine. I am no historian or scholar, nor am I a true master of commerce. But in our line of work you do learn a thing or two along the way. War is about two things,’ said Bill, extending two fingers and tapping the first. ‘It’s about miserable failure in diplomacy, admitting you couldn’t get what you wanted by arguing or persuasion, pleading or threatening.’ He tapped the second finger. ‘And it’s about profit. New land, booty, creating vassal states or any number of things that look like a profit to the winner. Even if conquest is not the reason, beating up your neighbour, winning, demanding ridiculous reparation, then going home, is profitable.’
‘But there’s a third reason?’
Bill grinned. ‘You’re anticipating me. Yes, the one reason no one cares to consider is madness. Some insane ruler or mad prophet or high priest hears a voice in his head and off march the armies.’
‘So, which is this?’
‘There’s the thing,’ said Bill, almost too delighted to speak.
Just then the door opened and a small man carrying a sack began to step over the threshold.
‘Get the hell out!’ bellowed Bill Cutter in a voice to tear the bricks off the wall. ‘We’re not open yet!’
The man leapt back, slamming the shop door so that the windows rattled.
Turning back to Jim, Bill said, ‘Best hurry. I’m late to open. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the thing is, this war meets none of the three reasons we enumerated. There was no failed diplomacy. Correct?’
‘Kesh made no claims in the west beyond their usual rants about the Vale of Dreams,’ agreed Jim.
‘And from what we can see, they appear to be hurtling towards bankrupting the imperial treasury to claim lands in the west that will not provide enough revenue to recoup in the next decade. More, the excuse they need to relocate recalcitrant vassal tribes from the Confederacy to take pressure off the Empire is patently false.’ He held up an index figure for emphasis. ‘For centuries Kesh has kept the Confederacy bottled up below the Girdle and watched with cold amusement as the nations of the Confederacy slaughtered one another for whatever reasons they dreamed up, enduring the occasional rebellion as a consequence, but that is merely the cost of doing business.
‘At times I am convinced that had the Empire had the resources, they would have built a big bleeding gate between the Belt and the Clasp, and thrown away the key. Now suddenly they start a war with their most powerful opponent in the world, to seize almost worthless lands in Crydee and Yabon just so they can move some rebellious tribesmen halfway around the world … for what? To make the Truebloods in the Upper City of Kesh feel good about their humanitarian impulses and their love of less fortunate subjects? Hardly.’
Jim nodded, uncertain where all this was going.
‘So, let us for a moment consider the two northern kingdoms. Roldem buttons up their little island and tucks in their fleet. First they try to play honest broker, but quickly they’re scolding both sides, threatening to go one way then another, ally with the Kingdom should Kesh initiate hostilities, yet give no assurances to the Kingdom they will
