"It should make them all the more interested in discovering who we really are!" Illyth groaned. "You never settle for half measures, do you?"
"Bold statements and daring actions are the hallmarks of confidence and the stuff of greatness," Jack said. "Shall we go?"
Side by side, they walked out into the night.
The next day, Jack sat on the end of a pier, kicking his feet idly over the waters of the inner harbor, and thought about what to do next. Time was heavy on his hands. All around him, the wharves thronged with people, longshoremen and sailors and teamsters and touts and peddlers, all shouting and calling out to one another as the business of the port carried on in the normal manner.
Elana had not left word for him at the Cracked Tankard, at least not yet, so he could not retrieve the book from its hiding place and collect the balance of his fee. He had a night and a day to wait yet before he could deliver the Sarkonagael. The next Game event was not for two nights yet, so there was little opportunity to continue his attack on the Riddle of the Seven Faceless Lords or to determine who Lady Mantis and Lord Tiger were and what it was they were up to.
Morgath and Saerk hadn't put in an appearance for days; presumably they'd followed Anders out of town in an effort to steal or recover the ruby the Northman held.
Marcus and Ashwillow hadn't shown their faces since that one unfortunate encounter in the alleyway near Jack's apartments.
Iphegor the Black had not been observed to leave his tower since the untimely demise of his familiar after Jack's burglary.
Ontrodes had run him out first thing in the morning when Jack dropped by to find out if the sage had learned anything more about the Sarkonagael. Even though Jack had the book in his possession, he was still interested in finding out what exactly it was so that he could figure out why Elana wanted it. He'd tried to read it, of course, but the cursed thing was obscured in a mage script he couldn't unravel. Of course, he didn't show Ontrodes any of the book-that would invite trouble, especially considering how diligently the sage was working for Zandria. Jack had the feeling that Zandria and the Sarkonagael would not mix well.
He looked up at the blue sky, streaked with high, wispy clouds. "At least it finally stopped raining," he remarked to no one in particular. He polished a stolen apple on one sleeve and took a reflective bite. The Brothers Kuldath suspected him of stealing their rubies. The Knights of the Hawk suspected Elana of something and associated him with her. Doubtless Iphegor the Black very much wanted somebody's head on a plate, although it was unlikely that the wizard would believe for long that Marcus the knight-commander was the perpetrator of his familiar's cruel end.
Jack took another bite and picked up a small book and a quill, thoughtfully transcribing a few more Game clues into the journal. Every clue rang of authenticity; Jack had seen dozens of official clues now, so he knew exactly how they were worded. In fact, the journal he was creating featured half a dozen accurate hints, just to add a patina of truth to the utter fabrication of the rest of the clues. The trick of it was losing the notebook at the right moment of the next Game gathering, without making it look like it had been lost on purpose. With any luck, a few participants would knock themselves out of the Game with Jack's forgeries.
That task attended to, Jack blew on the page to dry the ink and then put the book away in his vest pocket. The Game was attended to; Elana was not prepared to meet with him yet; that left Zandria and her riddle as the next item of business on Jack's agenda.
"And that means I'll need to speak to Tharzon," he said.
He finished his apple and tossed the core into the water, then scrambled to his feet-only to find a hulking figure in a dark hooded cloak standing over him. "Not so fast, friend Jack. I'd like a word with you."
"Anders?" Jack peered under the hood. "Please announce your presence next time with a Northman's drinking song or perhaps a wild war-whoop. You frightened me out of my wits, creeping up on me like that."
"Someone's looking for you, then?"
"My talents are widely sought. Failing that, so is my head. Back from Tantras already?"
Anders nodded. "A pair of bandits waylaid me, but I discouraged them from pressing an attack. They did manage to lame my horse by stringing a rope across the road, so I had to walk the poor beast the rest of way there and back."
Jack glanced around the busy docks, but no one seemed to be paying any special attention to the two of them. "And the ruby? How did you fare?"
Anders offered a gap-toothed grin and held up a small purse. "Better than expected. I fenced it for eight hundred and fifty gold crowns."
"Excellent! So my share would be four hundred and twenty-five, then."
"I think your recollection is faulty, friend Jack. We agreed on a sixty-forty split in my favor. To spare you the trouble of figuring it, I have already done so; it's five hundred ten for me, and three hundred forty for you."
Jack scowled. "That's hardly fair."
"You agreed to it. I don't consider it fair that I was hounded across the city by a ten-foot-tall demon and now seem to be held responsible for a robbery we committed together while you walk about free and clear." Anders dropped the purse into Jack's hands. "Your share. Count it if you like."
"Later," Jack replied. "Regarding those bandits: by discourage, do you mean chased off or discouraged in a more permanent manner?"
"Chased off, I'm afraid, although one will walk with a limp for the rest of his days.'' Anders frowned and looked down at Jack. "You didn't hire someone to waylay me, did you, Jack?"
"No, of course not," the rogue said quickly, holding up his hands. "It's very bad business to betray one's partners, after all. Word gets out, and then no one wants to work with you." He could see that the Northman was not entirely convinced, which stung Jack to no small degree. Making a show of another glance around the wharves, he reached up to put his arm around Anders's shoulder and said in a low voice, "I consider you to be one of the most trustworthy cutthroats I know. And, since I know that you feel that I have been less than forthright in my dealings with you of late, I earnestly desire the opportunity to win back some of your trust. What would you say if I told you I had another prospect that could prove very, very promising?"
Anders regarded him suspiciously. "Such as?"
"The opportunity to loot one of the most famous of Sarbreen's hidden vaults? A potential king's ransom, waiting just beneath our feet?"
"And the opposition?"
"Not opposition per se, but rather rivals seeking to beat us to the prize."
"Based upon my previous associations with you, I interpret those statements to mean that you've learned of a hitherto unnoticed pile of dwarven coppers for which we must strive against an army of angry demons conjured by ill-tempered Thayvians."
"Nothing quite so bad as that. And we have an advantage; the competition doesn't know that what we intend or what we know."
Chewing his mustache thoughtfully, the Northman watched the longshoremen and sailors thronging the wharves, hard at work. "What's the prize again?"
"The Guilder's Vault, a crypt in which the masters of ancient Sarbreen entombed Cedrizarun, the master distiller and a leader of the city." Anders appeared to waver so Jack decided to set the hook. "Come with me, and I'm sure Tharzon can answer your questions."
"The dwarf tunneler? Are you cutting him in, too?"
"The very same. And yes, I intend to take him on as an equal partner. Can you think of anyone more knowledgeable in the ways of Sarbreen's passages and vaults?"