Miranda said to Nakor, Keep an eye on things until we have a clear path back to the city. And please resist the temptation to do something amusing.
Nakor nodded, attempting to look serious but failing. Ill try.
To the magician named Akesh, she said, Sit and rest. We will likely be here for a while, and while were here, you can begin by telling me how you came to be serving as a Keshian lap-dog when you took an oath at the Academy to stay apart from conflicts between nations as well as your oath to the Conclave.
The magician looked at Miranda sullenly. He might not know what she was capable of in this form, but he knew her from her human incarnation; and after Pug and their son, Magnus, she might very well be the most powerful magician in the world. And Nakor, despite his reputation as something of a joker and card cheat, was also counted a very dangerous opponent.
Akesh took a deep breath, then began to speak.
CHAPTER NINE
Jim leapt over the wall.
Crouching down he waited until he heard the patrolling sentry reach the far end of the wall and begin his trudge back to where the Baron of the Princes Court, Envoy Extraordinaire of the Crown, and any other number of titles bestowed on him by the King at his grandfathers behest, waited like the common thief he was in his other life. He held a dagger close to his chest and prayed he didnt have to use it. Right now he had more than enough troubles without adding gratuitous bloodshed to his list of malefactions.
Jim tried to make himself as small as possible as he hunkered down behind a bush. He had picked this spot to escape the confines of the palace for three reasons: first, it was one of the two exits that wasnt being watched by agents of Sir William Alcorn; second, the other escape route was through the harbour and involved a fair bit of swimming and he wasnt in the mood to get wet; last of all, this was the most direct route into the city. All he had to do was time things so that he could be over the wall as the guard was one step away from turning at the end of his patrol, then dash for the darkness of sheltering doorways.
The problem was when the guard was walking right towards him: Jims only cover was two shrubs and a dull grey cloak which he had gathered around him like a tiny tent. If the guard didnt glance down as he passed the shrubbery, and James didnt draw attention to himself, he thought he had a fair chance of making it into the city undetected.
If not, a loyal member of the Kings palace guard would be dead for no good reason and Jims escape from the palace would be noticed earlier than planned. He really didnt care much about the latter issue, as he was bound to be missed before noon in any event. He just hated the idea of murdering a career soldier merely because he happened to be given this duty this night by his company sergeant.
The guard passed, and Jim let out his breath slowly in relief, for no needless blood would be shed tonight. He waited, listening as the footfalls moved away, then quietly he stood up, glanced at the retreating back of the sentry, and was away.
A silent sprint took him to a deep doorway in a storefront across the street, and he watched as the bored guardsman turned and started back on his rounds.
When the guard was at the far end of his patrol, Jim darted off in the opposite direction and a moment later, he turned the corner and was off into the darkened streets of Rillanon.
There was the sound of a dull thud of a cleaver slamming into a butchers block as a stocky man in a bloodstained apron cut through a haunch of pork. He was heavily muscled under the fat and sported a large gut that belied a turn of speed when it was needed. He had a pair of crystal spectacles pushed up on top of his head, for his eyesight wasnt what it used to be, and he needed keen vision for his accounting. He had paid dearly for them, but they served him well in balancing his ledger.
He nursed a pipe of tabac, the pungent aroma competing with the stench of old blood and ageing meat, and he hummed a nameless tune as he worked. When he had cut a nice dozen chops from the carcass, he picked up the remains and hung it on an iron hook in the corner. Why dont you come out now? Im done with the mornings work.
Jim stepped out of the shadows and the two men confronted one another. Bill, Jim said in neutral tones, as meagre a greeting as he could manage.
Saw you slip in and was quite able to split your skull with my cleaver, but when you didnt move out of the corner, I thought Id wait a bit to see what you were up to. William Cutter, known as Bill the Butcher smiled with a mix of amusement and menace. Lord James, or is it Jim Dasher of Krondor today? He paused. QuickJim? Jimmyhand? Jim the Fixer? Or perhaps another monicker with which Im unfamiliar?
Neither or both, depending on what I leave knowing.
If you leave, said Bill. Come, Im being inhospitable. He turned his back and walked through a curtained door towards the front of his shop. The sun was rising and the days business would begin soon.
The store front was modest, and the butchers counter was low and broad, each section with a small hole to facilitate the draining of blood. The stone floor also had a channel for drainage when it was washed each night, the run-off emptying out into the rear alley, above a sewer culvert. In the corner sat a small table and chair, incongruously bearing some delicate china cups and saucers. I take a minute before the business of the day starts to enjoy a quiet cup. Join me? Bill waved a meaty hand in the direction of the table and Jim nodded. A brass pot sat over a small brazier, the water just shy of a rolling boil. With deft fingers, Bill the Butcher prepared tea.
They sat down and Bill poured two cups. I take my tea black, so Im sorry I have no lemon or milk. Ive some sugar in the back.
Black is fine, said Jim.
Now, whoever you are at this moment, what brings you to my humble shop and why should I let you leave alive?
Jim weighed his words. The man opposite him was the head of the biggest underground crime gang in Rillanon. Less organized than the Mockers of Krondor, the Sewer Rats were the largest gang in the city, the centre of a loose association of many gangs: the Dock Stalkers, the North Street Rangers, the Jiggle Purse Bunch, the Greenhill Boys, the Starving Dogs, and a dozen others. To keep mayhem between gangs under control, the Council had been formed and today it was controlled by one man, William Bill the Butcher Cutter. More men were subject to him for their lives than any single noble in the east.
I need your help, Jim said at last.
A harsh barking laugh was followed by silence, then a sip of tea. Putting down his cup, Bill said, You have rocks on you, Ill give you that. Stones the size of boulders, Jim. Ive planted brothers and paid widows because of you more than any man in Rillanon, and youre hardly here for more than one day in twenty. So why should I let you leave here alive, let alone help you?
Imagine the Kingdom ruled by Sir William Alcorn.
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, Thats 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 youre 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.
Youll 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 youve 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, theres 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 Jims 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 Jims family for five generations in one form or another. Who will you send to run it? asked Jim at last.