“There,” he said to himself. “The tome is rendered completely harmless, and now I may proceed with confidence.” It occurred to him that he might profit by taking the Secrets of the Shadewrights completely apart and selling it back a page or two at a time … but he reminded himself that the mysterious buyer had been willing to spend a large sum of gold to get his hands on the book, and might be tempted to post another reward to accelerate the process if it became tedious. He decided it would be better to leave the rest of the book intact.
Satisfied with his precautions, he wrapped up the Sarkonagael again, tucked it back into his satchel, and left his house. The day was unusually gloomy; a low, heavy overcast glowered above the rooftops, although there was no rain to speak of. He strolled south on MacIntyre to Morglar’s Ride, then headed west into Altarside. Few people seemed to be out and about, and those who were had an unusually vigilant and hurried look; Jack began to wonder if he’d slept through some unusual alarm or if some dire news was abroad. He found himself looking down each alleyway he passed and peering into shadows, more than half-expecting to find another cloaked figure dogging his steps or vanishing from sight just as Jack noted a menacing presence. But this time he reached his destination without catching sight of any dark elf spies, real or imagined.
The counting house of Albrath stood not far from the City Hall. Jack climbed the stone steps to the door and entered; a long counter manned by several clerks stood along the wall, and doors of iron bars led to the offices behind the counter. Jack explained that he had retained the house’s representation in an unusual service, which proved sufficient for one of the counter-clerks to unlock the door and escort him to a small private office inside.
He waited only a few moments before a portly, bearded merchant in a green tunic and matching cap appeared and took a seat behind the desk. “Good afternoon, sir,” the fellow said in a warm voice. “I am Halden Albrath. How may I help you today?”
Jack hid a small smile. Halden likely didn’t know it, but he very strongly resembled his great-great-grandfather Embro Albrath, with whom Jack had done business once upon a time. “I am the landsgrave Jaer Kell Wildhame, formerly of the Vilhon Reach, currently resident in the manor of Maldridge,” Jack began. “A couple of days ago I sent a note instructing House Albrath to represent my interests in a delicate negotiation through Horthlaer House. Have you made any progress?”
“Ah, of course,” Halden Albrath replied. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord.” He put his hand to his mouth and coughed delicately. “Before we continue, I should advise you that we customarily require a five percent fee for such representation. I took the liberty of assuming your consent, because your directions were specific. I saw to the matter myself.”
Jack bestowed a gracious nod on the moneychanger, but winced inside. That amounted to several hundred gold crowns he’d never see again; he hoped his caution wasn’t completely unnecessary. “I expected as much,” he replied. “What did you learn?”
“The procedure is quite simple: Produce the book, and after Horthlaer House verifies its authenticity, you will be paid in gold crowns, platinum moons, gemstones, or a letter of credit, as you prefer. You can deliver it yourself, or leave the book with me and I will see to it.”
“Does Horthlaer’s client agree to pay the additional expenses I set forth in my previous instructions?”
The merchant offered a half-smile, as if he understood exactly what Jack meant by expenses. “To my surprise, yes. The buyer agreed to pay seven thousand crowns for the book.”
“Excellent!” Jack grinned in satisfaction; that, of course, was nothing with which he needed to trouble his partners from the Sarbreen adventure. If he had it figured correctly, he now stood to collect twenty-five hundred crowns for his half of the original reward, plus two thousand crowns more for the additional reward he’d negotiated, less Albrath’s three hundred and fifty-so overall better than half again what he’d originally planned on. His prospects were far from displeasing, really. “I insist on remaining anonymous, of course.”
“Discretion is assured, my lord. If you have the book, we can deliver it this afternoon, and your reward will be available before five bells.”
“Very good,” Jack answered. He considered the matter one more time, then opened his satchel and set the heavy tome on the table. “Proceed with the arrangements. I will return this afternoon to collect my reward. Please have thirty-five hundred crowns set aside in platinum double moons; the rest of the sum I’ll take as credit against your house.”
“I shall see to it personally, sir,” Halden Albrath said. He stood and offered Jack his hand. “Until this afternoon, then.”
Jack shook the merchant’s hand, and allowed himself to be shown to the door. On the doorstep of Albrath’s, he paused to watch the passers-by, porters, and wagons on Morlgar’s Ride as he considered his fortunes. Although he had to find a new residence to replace the uncharitably withdrawn offer to make use of Maldridge, he’d end the day with more wealth than he had ever enjoyed in his life. Of course, he also had a powerful wizard who might try to magic him back into a tiny green bottle; dangerous enemies in Lady Dresimil, Fetterfist, and possibly Myrkyssa Jelan; and a powerful nobleman, Marden Norwood, who expected him to absent himself from Raven’s Bluff, perhaps permanently. “The measure of a man lies in the difficulties he surmounts,” Jack observed to the street, and set off to roam the Temple District.
He spent the rest of the morning inspecting potential residences in the better neighborhoods of town. Nothing seemed quite satisfactory for a man of his anticipated means, but perhaps some might be comfortable enough with a small staff. The gloomy weather hung over the city for the whole morning, until it finally overcame his high spirits and drove him back homeward. Footsore and tired, he retraced his steps to Maldridge.
None of the staff bothered to greet him when he let himself in, which gave Jack cause to wish them a variety of minor afflictions and discomforts as payment for their variable loyalties. He started for his study with the idea of pouring himself a small glass of brandy to lighten his mood, but something in the sitting room just to the right from the foyer caught his eye: Two large traveling trunks or wardrobes stood in the middle of the room. Suspicion darkened the rogue’s thoughts immediately; he went over to investigate, and found that his collection of fine new garments-really, the entirety of his material possessions, other than the things he happened to be wearing-had been rather carelessly packed away.
Jack’s umbrage could no longer be contained. He stomped in a circle around the tall trunks, waving his arms in outrage. “Effrontery! Insubordination!” he shouted at the empty room. “Edelmon, present yourself at once!”
The old valet appeared at the sitting room’s doorway. “You bellowed, Master Jack?”
“What is the meaning of this?”
“I have been notified that your tenancy here in Maldridge is soon ending at Lord Norwood’s pleasure, sir. In the interest of rendering your exit as convenient as possible, I have taken the liberty of packing for you.”