The City of Ravens (4 page)

“My new clothes are ruined,” he observed.

“Count yourself lucky if that’s all I ruin,” Zandria snarled. Jack raised his head from the muck and looked back up at the window. The red-haired mage glared at him, the wand in her hand. “I don’t much care for eavesdroppers, thieves, swindlers, or whatever you are under all that false charm and pretentious manner.”

Spread-eagled in the mud, Jack adopted the most earnest expression he could find. “I would only insult you if I made any attempt to deny that I was listening to your conversation, my lady. I did eavesdrop, and you have my most humble and sincere apologies.” He smiled in what he hoped was an apologetic manner, and then added, “I only listened in because I so desperately wanted to help you. I allowed my instinct to aid others in need to momentarily overthrow my common sense.”

The mage blinked in astonishment. “You expect me to believe that?” she said.

“I never he,” Jack said. He slowly picked himself up off the ground, doing his best to brush the mud from his clothes. It was of little use. “Why don’t you show me the inscription you were speaking of? And that bottle of brandy? Maybe I can piece together your riddle for you. I have a real knack for that sort of thing.”

“I believe I’ll solve it without your help!” Zandria rapped her wand sharply on the windowsill. “Now get out of here before I turn you into a toad or a newt or something worse!”

Ontrodes peered over her shoulder at him. “I believe she means it, Jack,” he said. “Shame on you, listening at my window! My learning is my livelihood. When you make use of it without paying, why, you are stealing from me!”

“I shall begin to investigate this matter on your behalf this very instant” Jack assured Zandria. “How else can I demonstrate my good intentions? I’ll let you know the moment I make any progress.”

“Get out of my sight this instant!” the mage shrieked.

Jack gestured and mumbled the magical words. He faded into transparency as the spell of invisibility settled over him. “As you wish, my lady,” he called out. Then he squelched off through the mud, phantom footprints appearing one after another as he strode off boldly. He hummed merrily until he was out of sight. “Two riddles, two ladies, and two mysterious prizes! What next, I wonder?”

Absolutely confident of immediate success, Jack spent the rest of the day visiting every bookseller he knew of, obliquely inquiring after the Sarkonagael. He was careful to come around to his point slowly and without excessive enthusiasm, but as it turned out, Jack’s precautions were wasted. He didn’t find a single glimmer of recognition among any of the six booksellers he spoke to. Grudgingly he conceded the possibility that the mysterious Elana might have already investigated the obvious possibilities. That was unfortunate, since it meant that Jack might

have to work and work hard to unearth the book. He considered quitting outright, but then he found himself thinking about her raven-black hair and her perfect face. The prize just might justify real exertion.

At sundown, Jack turned his steps toward the Cracked Tankard. It was too early for the familiar crowd, but he was hungry and thirsty, and he hoped against hope that he might encounter his lovely employer again. He took his accustomed spot and handed Briesa one of Elana’s five-crown pieces for a huge trencher of beef and boiled potatoes, plus a sturdy mug of the Tankard’s best ale.

“Keep it,” he told the barmaid. “Well call it a line of credit.”

“Don’t you owe us some money already, Jack?” Briesa said with an impish smile.

“No more than a silver penny or two. That should more than address the balance of my debt, in addition to any small charges I incur over the next month or so,” he replied.

Briesa took the five-crown piece and set off on her rounds. When she returned a little later, she informed him that the proprietor had told her in no uncertain terms that five crowns covered Jack’s tab from nights past and his meal tonight. No line of credit was forthcoming, however.

Jack was just mulling over the possibility of changing taverns to some more trusting establishment when a huge figure in a dark cloak appeared at his table and hauled out the opposite chair without invitation. He looked up, a protest forming already, but he was silenced at once by a massive hand clamping down on his wrist. With a furtive look to the left and the right, the figure lifted the cowl of the cloak just enough for Jack to catch a glimpse of blue eyes and a somewhat singed blond beard.

“Anders!” he said in surprise.

“Shhhh!” hissed the big Northman. “I’ve been followed all day. Don’t give me away!”

“Of course, of course,” Jack replied. “Tell me, how did you fare when the brothers Kuldath drove us from our rightful take?”

“It was a harrowing escape, my friend,” Anders said. “The storeroom door held against the demon just long enough for me to climb back up to the rooftops. I fled at once, darting from housetop to housetop, but the demon pursued me! Did you notice that it had wings?”

“Now that you mention it, yes, I do recall wings. The high road was perhaps not the best choice of escape routes, given a pursuer who could fly.”

“I was forced to find refuge in the waters of the harbor, where I remained until sunrise, when the creature gave up and returned to its masters’ home. That was a long, cold night.”

“I waited for you here,” Jack said. “For what it’s worth, the ale was decidedly inferior last night, and they let the fire burn down to a small, sad pile of embers that didn’t warm the room in the least. You were really better off in the harbor.”

Anders let the remark pass without comment. His eyes had fixed on Jack’s sizable plate of steaming beef and potatoes. “When I climbed back to the wharves this morning, I was spotted by Kuldath agents. They reported me to the city watch, and I spent the whole day eluding their search. As it so happens, I never found an opportunity to replenish myself after shivering in the cold, foul waters of the inner harbor all night long. You wouldn’t mind if—?”

“Please, be my guest,” Jack said generously.

It was easy to agree, since Anders was already attacking his dinner with the ferocity of a ravenous bear. He

winced as the barbarian devoured the entirety of Jack’s one-crown dinner, and washed it down with great gulps of Jack’s fine ale.

“So,” Anders managed between gulps, “do you have my ruby on your person?”

“Your ruby?” Jack managed. “Friend Anders, did I not tell you that I failed to carry off any of the rubies? My I’ll-timed collision with Aldeemo scattered the rubies all over the floor, and I was forced to flee ere I recovered any of them.”

“Odd,” Anders said. “I am certain that I saw you pocket one ruby before you left the scene. Shall I help you check your pockets to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything?”

“Oh, that ruby! Well, yes, of course I managed to get away with the ruby you saw me pick up.”

“Excellent! You may deliver it to me at your convenience.”

“Well, I had thought that I would wait a couple of weeks and then fence the thing, so that we could then split the loot. Sixty-forty, as we agreed.”

“I look at it like this,” Anders said. “You promised that, if I happened to fight the demon, I should get three gems, and you should get two. To put it another way, I should get one more of the rubies than you. Since we have in our possession only one ruby, then it seems clear to me that I should keep it. Thus, I would have one more gem than you.”

“What you propose is completely intolerable!” Jack protested. “I would see no reward at all for weeks of exhaustive planning, endless nights of scrying and spying, and of course the sheer physical peril of the adventure itself! I cannot be left empty-handed!”

“You are correct, friend Jack,” Anders said thoughtfully. “We must sell the gem and split the proceeds. I will take

sixty percent in lieu of my three gems, and you may have forty percent in place of your two.”

Jack fidgeted in his seat. The five Kuldath rubies together would have fetched thousands of crowns. Now he stood to gain less than a tenth of that!

“I shall sell the gem at once, then,” he said wearily, “and I will deliver your due share by the end of the tenday.”

“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.