The Face of Chaos

'There are those who would confuse your zeal for self-interest rather than a defence of the town,' Saliman said carefully. 'The Beysib do constitute a threat to your effort to rebuild your power base.'

'Of course,' the hawkmaster smiled. 'Like the invaders, I work for my own benefit... Everyone does, though most don't admit it. The difference is that my success is linked to the continuance of Sanctuary as we have known it. Theirs isn't.'

'Of course, your success will not happen by itself,' his aide reminded him.

'Yes, yes. I know. Affairs of business. Forgive my ramblings, Saliman, but you know I find details tedious now that I've attained old age.'

'You found them tedious well before your aging,' came the dry response.

'... which is why you are so valuable to me. Enough of your nagging. Now, what pressing matter do you have that simply must be dealt with?'

'Do you recall the shop that was displaying our protection symbol without having paid for the services?'

'The artifact shop? Yes, I remember. Synab never struck me as the sort who had that kind of courage.'

For all his grumbling and protests about detail, Jubal had an infallible memory for money and people.

'Well?' the slaver continued, 'What of it? Has the investigation been completed, or does his shop still stand?'

'Both,' Saliman smiled. 'Synab claims to be innocent of offence. He says that he didpa.y us for protection.'

'And you believed him? It's not like you to be so easily bluffed.'

'I believed him, but only because we located the one who has been dealing in our name.'

'A poacher?' Jubal scowled. 'As if we didn't have enough problems. All we need is to have every cheap crook in Sanctuary borrowing our reputation for his own extortions. I want the offender caught and brought to me as soon as possible.'

'He's waiting outside,' the aide smiled. 'I thought you would want to see him.'

'Excellent, Saliman. Your efficiency improves daily. Give me a moment to get into this wretched mask and bring him in.'

To maintain appearances, Jubal always wore one of the outlawed blue hawkmasks, as well as a hooded cloak when interviewing underlings and outsiders. It would not do to have the word spread that his youth had fled him, nor did it hurt to capitalize on the terror inspired by a featureless leader. In an effort to maximize the latter effect, the ex-crimelord doused all candles but one and laid his sword on the table in front of himself before signalling that the captive's blindfold should be removed.

Their prisoner was an unwashed urchin barely into his teens. His type were as numerous as rats in Sanctuary, harassing store owners and annoying shoppers with their arrogant stares and daring sorties. There was no defiance in this one, though. Cowed and humble, he stood blinking, trying to clear his eyes while standing with the trembling stillness of a tethered goat trying to escape the notice of a predator.

'Do you know who I am, boy?'

'J ... Jubal, sir.'

'Louder! The name came readily enough to you when you represented yourself to Synab as my agent.'

'I ... everyone said you were dead, sir. I thought the symbols were a new extortion racket and didn't see any harm in trying to cash in on it myself.'

'Even if I were dead, it's a dangerous name to be using. Weren't you afraid of the guardsmen? Or the Stepsons? They're hunting hawkmasks, you know.'

'The Stepsons,' the boy sneered. 'They aren't so much. One of them had me cold with my hand in his purse yesterday. I knocked him down and got away before he could untangle himself enough to draw his sword.'

'Anyone can be surprised, boy. Remember that. Those men are hardened veterans who've earned their reputation as well as their

pay.'

'They don't scare me,' the boy argued, more defiantly.

'Do I?'

'Y ... Yes, sir,' came the reply, as the youth remembered his predicament.

'... but not enough to keep you from posing as one of my agents,' Jubal finished for him. 'How much did you get from Synab, anyway?'

'I don't know, sir.'

The ex-crimelord raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

'Really!' the urchin insisted. 'Instead of a flat fee, I demanded a portion of his weekly sales. I told him that we ... that you would be watching his shop and would know if he tried to cheat on the figure.' ,

'Interesting,' Jubal murmured. 'How did you arrive at that system?'

'Well, once I knew that he was scared enough to pay, I suddenly realized that I didn't know how much to ask for. If I asked for too little, he'd get suspicious, but if I named a figure too high, he'd either ruin his shop, trying to pay it, or simply refuse ... and then I'd have to try to make good my threats.'

'So what portion did you ask for?'

'One in five. But, you see, linking his payment to his sales, the fee would grow with his business, or adjust itself if times grew lean.'

The hawkmaster pondered this for a time.

'What is your name, boy?'

'Cidin, sir.'

'Well, Cidin, if you were in my place, if you caught someone using your name without permission, what would you do to him?'

'I ... I'd kill him, sir,' the boy admitted. 'You know, as an example, so other people wouldn't do the same thing.'

'Quite right,' Jubal nodded, rising to his feet. 'I'm glad you understand what would have to be done.'

Cidin braced himself as the ex-crimelord reached for the sword on the table, then blinked in astonishment as the weapon was returned to its scabbard, instead of being wielded with deadly intent.

'... fortunately for both of us, that isn't the case here. You have my permission to use my name and work as my agent. Of course, two thirds of what you collect will be paid to me for the use of that name. Agreed?'

'Yes, sir.'

'You might also think of recruiting some of your friends to help you ... if they're as quick of wit as they are of foot.'

'I'll try, sir.'

'Now wait here for a moment while I fetch my aide. I want you to tell him what you told me about portions instead of flat fees. It's an idea worth investigating.'

He started for the door, then paused, studying the boy with a thoughtful eye.

'You don't look like a hawkmask... but then again, maybe that's what our rebuilding needs. I think the days of swaggering swordsmen are numbered in Sanctuary.'

'Have you reached a decision yet on Mor-am and Moria?'

Jubal shook his head. 'There's no rush,' he said. 'Mor-am is ours anytime we want him. I don't want to eliminate him until I've made my mind up on Moria. Those two were close once, and I'm still unconvinced she has totally quelched her feelings for her brother.'

'It's said she has developed a taste for wine. If we wait too long, she may not be worth the recruiting.'

'All the more reason to wait. Either she is strong enough to stand alone, without brother or wine, or she isn't. We've no room for employees who need tending.'

'They were good people,' Saliman said softly.

'Yes, they were. But we can ill afford generosity at this time. What about the other? Is there any danger our spies in Walegrin's force will be discovered?'

'None that we know of. Of course, they have an advantage over the rest of us.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Only that they're exempt from the order to assist the Stepsons, whenever trouble arises. I've told you before, it's a dead giveaway to come to the aid of those mercenaries every time they get into a scrape. No one else in town likes them, except the whores, and it breeds suspicion when one of ours takes their side in a quarrel.'

'Have they honoured their pledge not to hunt the old hawk-masks?'

'Yes,' Saliman admitted grudgingly. 'In a way, they still go through the motions, but they have been notably ineffective since the alliance.'