Tales From The Vulgar Unicorn

'Though I appreciate your intervention,' the Hell Hound commented drily, 'it would have been nice to take him alive. I'll admit a passing curiosity as to who sent him.'

'I can tell you that.' The hawk-masked figure smiled grimly. 'It's Kurd's money that filled that assassin's purse, though it puzzles me why he would bear you such a grudge.'

'You knew about this in advance?'

'One of my informants overheard the hiring in the Vulgar Unicorn. It's amazing how many normally careful people forget that a man can hear as well as talk.'

'Why didn't you send word to warn me in advance?' 'I had no proof.' The black man shrugged. 'It's doubtful my witness would be willing to testify in court. Besides, I still owed you a debt from our last meeting... or have you forgotten you saved my life once?'

'I haven't forgotten. As I told you then, I was only doing my duty. You owed me nothing.'

'... And I was only doing my duty as a Rankan citizen in assisting you tonight.' Jubal's teeth flashed in the moonlight.

'Well, whatever your motive, you have my thanks.'

Jubal was silent a moment. 'If you truly wish to express your gratitude,' he said at last, 'would you join me now for a drink? There's something I would like to discuss with you.'

'I... I'm afraid I can't. It's a long walk to your ... house and I '~ have duties tomorrow.' .

'I was thinking of the Vulgar Unicorn.'

'The Vulgar Unicorn?' Zalbar stammered, genuinely astonished. 'Where my assassination was planned. I can't go in there.'

'Why not?'

'Well... if for no other reason than that I am a Hell Hound. It would do neither of us any good to be seen together publicly, much less in the Vulgar Unicorn.'

'You could wear my mask and cloak. That would hide your uniform and face. Then, to any onlooker it would only appear that I was having a drink with one of my men.'

For a moment Zalbar wavered in indecision, then the audacity of a Hell Hound in a blue hawk-mask seized his fancy and he laughed aloud. 'Why not?' he agreed, reaching for the offered disguise. 'I've always wondered what the inside of that place looked like.'

Zalbar had not realized how bright the moonlight was until he stepped through the door of the Vulgar Unicorn. A few small oil lamps were the only illumination and those were shielded towards the wall, leaving most of the interior in heavy shadow. Though he could see figures huddled at several tables as he followed Jubal into the main room, he could not make out any individual's features.

There was one, however, whose face he did not need to see, the unmistakably gaunt form of Hakiem the storyteller slouched at a central table. A small bowl of wine sat before him, apparently forgotten, as the tale-spinner nodded in near-slumber. Zalbar harboured a secret liking for the ancient character and would have passed the table quietly, but Jubal caught the Hell Hound's eye and winked broadly. Withdrawing a coin from his sword-belt, the slaver tossed it in an easy arch towards the storyteller's table.

Hakiem's hand moved like a flicker of light and the coin disappeared in mid flight. His drowsy manner remained unchanged.

'That's payment enough for a hundred stories, old man,' Jubal rumbled softly, 'but tell them somewhere else ... and about someone else.'

Moving with quiet dignity, the storyteller rose to his feet, bestowed a withering gaze on both of them, and stalked regally from the room. His bowl of wine had disappeared with his departure.

In the brief moment that their eyes met, Zalbar had felt an intense intelligence and was certain that the old man had penetrated both mask and cloak to coldly observe his true identity. Hastily revising his opinion of the gaunt tale -spinner, the Hell Hound recalled Jubal's description of an informant whom people forgot could hear as well as see and knew whose spying had truly saved his life.

The slaver sank down at the recently vacated table and immediately received two unordered goblets of expensive qualis. Settling next to him, Zalbar noted that this table had a clear view of all entrances and exits of the tavern and his estimation of Hakiem went up yet another notch.

'If I had thought of it sooner, I would have suggested that your man on the rooftop join us,' the Hell Hound commented. 'I feel I owe him a drink of thanks.'

'That man is a woman, Moria; she works the darkness better than I do ... and without the benefits of protective coloration.'

'Well, I'd still like to thank her.'

'I'd advise against it.' The slaver grinned. 'She hates Rankans, and the Hell Hounds in particular. She only intervened at my orders.'

'You remind me of several questions.' Zalbar set his goblet down. 'Why did you act on my behalf tonight? And how is it that you know the cry the army uses to warn of archers?'

'In good time. First you must answer a question of mine. I'm not used to giving out information for free, and since I told you the identity of your enemy, perhaps now you can tell me why Kurd would set an assassin on your trail?'

After taking a thoughtful sip of his drink, Zalbar began to explain the situation between himself and Kurd. As the story unfolded, the Hell Hound found he was saying more than was necessary, and was puzzled as to why he would reveal to Jubal the anger and bitterness he had kept secret even from his own force. Perhaps, it was because, unlike his comrades whom he respected, Zalbar saw the slaver as a man so corrupt that his own darkest thoughts and doubts would seem commonplace by comparison.

Jubal listened in silence until the Hell Hound was finished, then nodded slowly. 'Yes, that makes sense now,' he murmured. .

'The irony is that at the moment of attack I was bemoaning my inability to do anything about Kurd. For a while, at least, an assassin is unnecessary. I am under orders to leave Kurd alone.'

Instead of laughing, Jubal studied his opposite thoughtfully. 'Strange you should say that.' He spoke with measured care. 'I also have a problem I am currently unable to deal with. Perhaps we can solve each other's problems.'

'Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?' Zalbar asked, suddenly suspicious.

'In a way. Actually this is better. Now, in return for the favour I must ask, I can offer something you want. If you address yourself to my problem, I'll put an end to Kurd's practice for you.'

'I assume that what you want is illegal. If you really think I'd...'

'It is not illegal!' Jubal spat with venom. 'I don't need your help to break the law, that's easy enough to do despite the efforts of your so-called elite force. No, Hell Hound, I find it necessary to offer you a bribe to do your job - to enforce the law.'

'Any citizen can appeal to any Hell Hound for assistance.' Zalbar felt his own anger grow. 'If it is indeed within the law, you don't have to...'

'Fine!' the slaver interrupted. 'Then, as a Rankan citizen I ask you to investigate and stop a wave of murders - someone is killing my people; hunting blue-masks through the streets as if they were diseased animals.'

'I ... I see.'

'And I see that this comes as no surprise,' Jubal snarled. 'Well, Hell Hound, do your duty. I make no pretence about my people, but they are being executed without a trial or hearing. That's murder. Or do you hesitate because it's one of your own who's doing the killing?'

Zalbar's head came up with a snap and Jubal met his stare with a humourless smile.