After Chant’s wife died, it would’ve been easy enough to leave Akanul. And he probably should have. But his pawnshop business was just beginning to turn a profit, and his nascent network of secret gatherers was becoming something more than a mere idea. He’d had coin on his mind; it was how he’d coped with the disintegration of his marriage.
Jaul had fallen through the cracks. He’d paid too little mind to the boy. Digger had probably saved Jaul’s life when he ran afoul of some toughs. According to the story Chant heard, Digger had charged into a melee that pitted Jaul against five others with nothing more than an improvised club. Since then, everything Digger said was law to Jaul. So when Digger told the young man there was a job for him at the Den of Games, nothing Chant could do or say made any difference. Well, he had made one difference-he’d managed to completely alienate his son and give Raneger the hook he required to make sure Chant wouldn’t flee his debt.
“Why’re you still here, anyway?” Jaul said suddenly.
“I’m waiting for my ale-”
“No, Pa, you know what I mean. Why’re you still working at the Den? Digger says you paid your debt to the house. You can go back to your pawnshop anytime.”
“Ah. Yeah, I’ve paid my debt. Raneger isn’t sending goons after me anymore to threaten my life-”
“That never happened!” said Jaul.
“It did. Open your eyes.”
Jaul looked disgusted. But he said, “All right, maybe. Probably just to scare you. But if Raneger sent you reminders, then I really don’t understand why you’ve taken on here. You must hate it.” Jaul gestured with his mug at the room. Ale sloshed over the rim.
Chant sighed. He knew Jaul was right. But he also knew his son drank too much for so early in the day. However, pointing that sort of thing out to his son was the best way to end a conversation. He decided to be honest.
“Couple reasons I’m here,” Chant finally said. “First, it’s the only way I can see you. You’re still my blood, and I want to look out for you.”
Jaul rolled his eyes. “Just like you used to?”
Sharkbite! Chant clamped down on the anger that was his automatic response. His son knew all the right triggers. “Second … well, the job I took, the one that paid me so well I was able to pay off Raneger’s crazy claim, well, it was dangerous. I got on the wrong side of Chevesh. He’s a fire mage that-”
“The crazy wizard?” Jaul turned in his seat to face his father. His eyes had gone wide with interest. Jaul hadn’t looked at him like that in more than a year. Maybe several years.
“Yeah, he’s crazy all right,” said Chant, warming to the topic. “A human trying to graft himself with genasi firesoul heritage. But the only thing he’s managed to accomplish is to bake his own brain.”
“What’d you do? Why’s Chevesh after you?”
“I asked him if he was responsible for some bad stuff going down around the city a few months ago. Nightmares coming to life, demons appearing and killing people. We had to sneak into his tower-”
“Damn, Pa! You snuck into Chevesh’s? What’d you find?”
Chant took his beer from Digger. He sipped and then said, “Chevesh had nothing to do with the abyssal plague we were hunting down, turns out. But he was mighty put out when he found me and Demascus in his sanctum. We managed to get away with just a few burns. But he recognized me, and he swore vengeance.”
Jaul shook his head, but not in disgust or fear. In admiration!
Chant continued, “I’d hoped that since he was soft in the head, Chevesh would forget. But, oh, how wrong I was. He hired assassins.”
Jaul swallowed his beer wrong. When the coughing subsided, he said, “Mystra’s Corpse! And you fought them off?”
“No. I should say, he tried to hire assassins-he thought he had. Chevesh contracted with someone on Raneger’s payroll. Raneger, who’d just collected my debt, had his proxy pretend to accept. Then Raneger summoned me to the Den and revealed the signed contract. Said that he’d be willing to permanently lose the thing if I’d put my secret-gathering network at his disposal for one year. That was six months ago.”
“Wait, wait. Master Raneger did that for you? Because … because he wanted to use your network?”
“Close your mouth, son, you look soft in the head. Is it so unbelievable that your old man built something that Raneger might value?”
“I guess not.” Jaul’s mouth twitched; an incipient grin.
Score one for the old man, Chant thought. He sipped his beer, hiding his own smile. Then he frowned. Impressing his son by revealing how a master criminal was exploiting the pawnbroker’s network wasn’t exactly how he wanted to mend fences with Jaul. He wanted to pull him out of this situation, not make it seem like something reasonable. Chant suspected he was a terrible role model. It was no wonder his boy-
“Hey, Pa, I’m heading over to the Plaza of Dancing Dolphins tonight. They got good music there, a better grade than this rat piss.” He waved at the musicians in the corner. “It might be all right, if you wanted to come?”
On the other hand, Chant thought, he couldn’t argue with results. “Sure, I’d like that.”
Digger came to check on Jaul. The dwarf frowned to see the pawnbroker still there. That’s right, thought Chant, eyeing the greasy dwarf. Jaul and I are family, and I’m not letting you or this organization turn us against each other again.
A tug on Chant’s sleeve turned out to be one of the musicians. “What?”
“Someone’s looking for you.” The musician pointed at a pale man with tattoos the color of ash.
“Waukeen’s empty purse!” Chant said.
Jaul glanced at the stranger. “Who’s that?”
“Demascus!” Chant called, and waved the deva over. Behind him came Riltana. The pawnbroker grinned. Both were dripping wet. The storm must still be howling outside. “A reunion,” he said. “Digger, ale for my friends.”
He opened his mouth to ask Riltana how Carmenere was, then closed it. Sometimes he could manage tact.
Jaul eyed the damp strangers.
“Jaul, meet Demascus and Riltana. And this is Jaul, the apple of my eye.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Demascus, and offered a hand. Jaul didn’t react for only a moment, just long enough to be rude, then shook.
Riltana nodded and said, “Hey kid, nice to meet you.”
“Chant,” said the deva, “It’s great to see you again. It’s been too long.”
The pawnbroker smiled. “Decide to try your hand at some games? I can steer you to a couple of tables that aren’t fixed. And how’s my cat?”
“No games today,” said Demascus. “And Fable is settled in well. A little too well. I think she believes she’s the master and I’m her servant.” Chant and Jaul both chuckled
“Actually, I have something I want to talk to you about,” Demascus said. “Fairly serious … is there anywhere we can talk?”
Riltana let her gaze rest on Jaul for a couple of heartbeats, just long enough to imply his son’s presence was an annoyance.
Jaul stiffened as he realized he’d suddenly become the odd man out. Sharkbite! Not when he’d just made so much headway!
Chant raised his hand and said, “Demascus, I have no secrets from my son. What’s on your mind?”
Demascus frowned. “Chant. This is sensitive material. I trust you and your son can keep it confidential?”
Chant glanced at Jaul, who licked his lips and nodded. Chant was already regretting his words. Of course the boy couldn’t keep a secret. Why, just-
“Great.” Demascus leaned in, and Riltana followed his lead. “There’s been a mining disruption,” said the deva, “and the Throne of Majesty is concerned it’s actually a covert attack by a foreign power. Queen Arathane is desperate for some actual intelligence at the mine site before the Four Stewards force some sort of military action based on fear, not facts.”