After a few minutes, Cale caught Jak's eye. The little man's expression of happy surprise vanished in an instant when Cale surreptitiously shook his head to indicate caution. Instantly, Jak returned his attention to the game and only occasionally cast a guarded glance toward Cale.
Though Jak operated as an independent in Selgaunt's gang-dominated underworld-a situation Cale thought of as akin to swimming the shark-infested Inner Sea with only a table knife for protection-the little man still knew guild hand-cant. So while Jak seemingly paid full attention to the card game, Cale used a series of subtle hand gestures to communicate a message: "Upstairs. Number seven. Urgent."
Jak gave a slight nod while laughing at a noble's joke, and Cale made his way upstairs. The halfling would come as soon as he could.
Cale did not have to wait long. Within a quarter-hour, the meeting room door opened and Jak strolled in, teeth shining and purse chinking.
"This must be important for you to interrupt that run of Tymora's favor," he observed, invoking the name of the goddess of fortune. "What's going on, Cale? Have I stepped on the Righteous Man's toes again?" Jak often inadvertently interfered with the Night Knives' operations. The fact that he was still alive showed he did indeed have the favor of Tymora.
"No, no, it's nothing like that." Cale blew out a sigh and ran a hand over his head. "I have a problem, Jak. I need help."
Jak's face grew serious. He slid into the chair across from Cale and rested his small hands on the table. "Go on."
"The Knives want me to arrange the kidnapping of Talbot Uskevren." He did not need to explain the dilemma further. Jak knew all about Cale's position with the Knives and that for the past several years he had been secretly shielding the Uskevren from the Righteous Man, rather than exposing the family's vulnerabilities.
The little man eased back in his chair and blew out a soft whistle. "That does bring the boil to a head now doesn't it? Dark, Cale! I told you to get out of the Night Knives years ago."
Cale smiled tiredly. "Easier said than done, my friend. The Righteous Man isn't going to let me walk away. I'm too valuable to him. If I tried, he'd either kill me or tip my past to Thamalon, and…" He shook his head, unwilling to voice the thought aloud.
"And that would be that," Jak finished. His green eyes flashed angrily. "The Righteous Man indeed! He's a murderous priest of Mask, by the Trickster's hairy toes." He drummed his hairy-knuckled fingers on the tabletop and stared earnestly at Cale. "What are you going to do?"
Cale steepled his fingers before his face and looked Jak in the eye. He had already decided not to mince words. "I'm going to ambush the hit team and kill every one of them. Afterward, I'll tell the Righteous Man that a rival gang ambushed us and only I escaped."
Cale had expected Jak to tell him he was mad, but to the halfling's credit, he merely nodded. "That could work, assuming no one escapes. Who's leading the team?"
"Drasek Riven."
"Riven," Jak softly hissed. "That figures." He sat back in his chair and stroked his chin, considering. Cale waited silently, unwilling to press. He was asking a lot of the little man.
To his surprise, Jak took only a few moments before flashing a grim smile. "We've been friends a long time, Erevis," the halfling said. "If you need me, I'm in."
Cale stared solemnly at his friend. Though grateful for Jak's offer, he could not yet accept it. Not before he told the little man everything. Cale could not ask Jak to risk his life without knowing the kind of man he had agreed to help.
"Jak, I need…" He stopped, cleared his throat, and started over. "You don't know much about me, about my past I mean, before I came to Selgaunt."
Jak held up a small palm and shook his head. "That's true enough, but that's your business, Cale. You don't owe me any explanations."
"I know that, but under the circumstances… I think you should know who you're helping."
Jak studied him carefully, trying to read his face. At last, the halfling blew out a sigh and sank into his chair. After crossing his arms over his chest, he looked like a man bracing for a storm. "All right. If you insist."
Cale hesitated, suddenly unsure of where to begin. He longed to get the secret off his soul, but feared Jak's response. If the little man balked, he had no one else to whom he could turn. He forced himself to begin. "You know that I came to Selgaunt from Westgate?"
Jak nodded. Westgate straddled the trade route between the Inner Sea and the Sword Coast; a large, rich city brimming with merchants and thieves, pirates and assassins.
"I came here because I was running."
Jak leaned forward at that, his green eyes curiously intense. "From what?"
Cale looked at his hands while he spoke, embarrassed by his past. "When I was just a boy, I was recruited by the Night Masks."
Jak gave a low whistle at the mention of Westgate's infamous, but now defunct, thieves' guild. "Dark," he softly cursed.
Cale ignored him and continued: "I received all the standard training…" He hesitated at Jak's raised eyebrows. The halfling obviously had some idea of what Night Mask "standard training" entailed. Cale hurried on. "… but got moved to letters work pretty quick."
Jak gave a start. "You? A letters man? Translations and such?" He chuckled softly at Cale's nod. "I always knew you were too damned smart for your own good, Cale. How many languages do you speak?"
"Nine."
"Nine!"
Cale sighed in exasperation. "If you'll stop interrupting," he snapped, "maybe I can tell you the rest before dawn."
Jak started to say something, thought better of it, and closed his mouth with pop. He sank into his chair, sulking.
Cale suppressed a smile. The little man looked like a petulant child ordered into a corner. Cale spoke his next words in a soft, tense voice. "For a lot of years, I did what Mask guildsmen did-steal, kill, intimidate. I got tired of it, even doing letters work, so I started skimming coin. When it got too hot, I ran-here." He gestured expansively and gave Jak a slight smile. "You know the rest."
Jak sat silently for a moment, staring at Cale as though wondering whether or not it was all right to speak. When Cale gave a nod, Jak sat up in his chair and adopted an overly serious mien. "Indeed, I do know the rest of your sorry tale, my bald friend. It goes something like this: Despite the advice of your intrepid and fearless halfling friend, Jak Fleet, you foolishly fell in with the Righteous Man and his gang of thugs. The guild being otherwise filled with incompetents, you rose quickly through its ranks. Ultimately, you developed this harebrained scheme to place guild operatives in the noble houses." He looked up with a straight face, his green eyes all innocence. "So far, so good?"
Cale smiled despite himself. Jak grinned and went on.
"Unfortunately for you, you came to actually like Thamalon Uskevren and to care for his daughter even more. You protected them over the years by feeding the Righteous Man harmless information. Oh, you occasionally dropped some juicy bit that hurt this or that noble family but never anything that seriously compromised the Uskevren. Now that very scheme has turned around and bitten you in the tail."
Korvikoum, Cale thought.
"And now your pigeons have come home to roost."
Cale nodded.
"And now-"
"I get the point," Cale snapped.
"Good." Jak sat silently for a moment. He shook his head and his face grew serious. "That's a tangled web, my friend, and a lot for one man to carry around. I don't know how you've done it."
Cale held his tongue. He suddenly felt very tired.