"Tyr's eyes! My deceitful shadow did that?" Jack swallowed nervously. Tharzon would simply kill him on sight; there was no way he could ever stumble across the dwarf again, explanation or no explanation. "The dastard!"
"Not only that, but you-your shadow, I guess-hired seven street mimes to ape poor Tharzon's flight and extinguishment directly afterward, thus shaming the poor fellow seven times over in front of hundreds of passersby on the busiest street in the Market District." Anders raised an admonishing finger. "That was ill done."
"Street mimes?" Jack fought hard, very hard, to keep a straight face, despite a twitching of his lips and a snigger in his voice. He could see them blundering down the street, beating at their heads, only to fling themselves into the nearest pile of ordure- "I tell you, friend Anders, not in a thousand years could I have imagined such a base deed. I am responsible for neither Tharzon's scorching nor your drenching!"
"I believe you-for the moment, but if I should ever learn otherwise…" Anders held Jack's gaze for a long moment, naked anger riveting the rogue to the spot. Then he harrumphed and kicked the wreckage aside. "You'd best find out who is imitating you and bring this to an end, or you won't have a single friend in this entire city!"
Jack glanced skyward, scanning the rooftops. There was no sign of his dark twin, although that did not mean that the villain was not lurking there invisibly.
"I shall henceforward devote my entire existence to the discovery and punishment of this fiend," he promised.
Leaving Anders to the unenviable process of drying what little was left of his material possessions, Jack spent the rest of the evening and all of the following day searching all of his favorite haunts and places, asking people he knew when they'd seen him last.
The barkeep at the Cracked Tankard gave him a strange look and said simply, "Last night. Why do you ask?"
At the Wizard's Guild, the doorman squinted and muttered but admitted he hadn't seen Jack in a week or more. He checked various food stands, alehouses, and taprooms all over the waterfront, to little avail, and he avoided the Smoke Wyrm, because he already knew his shadow had done its work there.
"It would seem," he told himself after hours of wandering the city, "that my shadow twin frequents different establishments than those I favor." Finally he turned his steps toward the Cracked Tankard again, expecting any kind of mischief from the various parties that he'd learned were looking for him. The Knights of the Hawk had apparently been asking after him all over the city, along with a mage who might or might not have been Iphegor, and a pair of thieves who might or might not have been Morgath and Saerk.
"Zandria!" Jack stopped and put his hand to his head. "We are to meet this evening and discuss the division of the loot! I'd forgotten!" And he had no preparations at all for allies to back him up in the event the Red Wizard chose to deal dishonorably. He stepped off the street and onto the covered boardwalk running along Waelstar Way, perching atop a barrel of pickled herring outside a provisioner's shop while he thought. Anders wanted little to do with him, Tharzon he dared not approach, and any other blackguard he could think of was simply much too untrustworthy. Ontrodes was a drunkard, and Illyth a noblewoman-and neither would be much use in dissuading Zandria from treachery if the sorceress were so inclined.
"Elana would be a good accomplice," Jack muttered, "as she is extremely competent and claims to be immune to magic, a handy thing when one is confronting a wizard. It's a shame that she is the Warlord, and her minions are trying to kill me. Otherwise she'd be perfect."
Reluctantly he decided that there was nothing to do but trust in Zandria's honorable nature, so he hopped down from the barrel and continued on his way. She had agreed, after all, to pay him two-elevenths of the treasure plus ten thousand gold crowns of the reward-all told, a sum that must be close to thirty thousand gold pieces. "I could never transport such wealth," Jack thought. "I shall have to arrange for a detail of guards from some reputable counting-house to take custody of the coinage and convert it into more convenient sums later. If I do so, Zandria will see that I mean business and will not easily be cheated. And I can always try to ransom the ring and the knife back from her by offering cash for the articles of interest."
Quickly Jack hurried to the offices of House Albrath and there contracted for the services of six sturdy armsmen and a secure coach to await his negotiations with Zandria that evening. The cost was exorbitant-more than two hundred gold crowns-but Embro Albrath himself assured Jack that discretion was his watchword. For the deposit and a mere five percent of the value of the transaction, the mustachioed Albrath would see to it that Lord Jaer Kell Wildhame's wealth reached a secure location and that Jack was provided with the means to access his gains or convert them into other currencies at his leisure.
By the time Jack concluded his arrangements with the merchant, the sun was setting over the Inner Sea and the shadows ran long in the city streets. The day's warmth faded rapidly before the onslaught of a cold, damp offshore wind, bringing evening fogs to the city streets and a chilly, cloying mist to those workmen and wayfarers who had not found their suppers yet. Jack wrapped his cloak closer to his body and shivered his way across town again, riding inside his rented coach in the company of the garrulous Embro Albrath while his hired soldiers tramped alongside. He and his procession arrived at the Cracked Tankard an hour after sunset, creating quite a commotion.
"You and your men may wait outside," Jack told the merchant imperiously. "My business should be concluded swiftly."
Embro Albrath-a stout man dressed in red, wearing a sea of golden chains around his neck and a gold ring on each finger-shook his head. "I shall accompany you, my lord," the merchant said. "I have no wish to pass an hour or two in this clammy cold while a friendly fire warms yon taproom."
Jack began to protest but stopped himself. Albrath's presence lent an illusion of credibility to the transaction. He might do well with the moneylender at his side.
"Very well, but I must ask you not to interrupt, no matter what transpires. My affairs are complicated and my partners unreliable."
"I am the very soul of discretion," the merchant promised.
Jack nodded in appreciation and let himself out of the coach. He glanced once more at the six soldiers standing by vigilantly, then ducked inside. Embro Albrath trailed him by a step. The merchant hesitated half a heartbeat when he noted the location in which Jack intended to do his business, but he smiled broadly beneath his mustache as if he approved of the informal setting and said nothing.
The common room of the Cracked Tankard was filled, which was not at all unusual given the time of day. Jack studied the room carefully and saw no sign of Zandria, nor any agents or thugs who might have been in her employ. He caught the barkeep's eye and flashed a couple of silver talents, learning that Zandria awaited in a private dining room in the back of the alehouse.
"Excellent," said Jack. "Let us proceed!"
He bounded up the narrow staircase leading to the private rooms on the upper floor, confident and energetic. Zandria would deal honorably with him; Red Wizards might be prideful and dangerous, but if word got out that a Red Wizard's word was no good, why, the entire organization would suffer immeasurably! In fact, it would be far wiser for the leaders among the Thayan magocracy to sternly advise their lesser brethren to scrupulously honor the letter and spirit of any agreement struck, so that all people everywhere would know that a Red Wizard's word was his bond.