"Then I'm free to go?" Hanse said uncertainly, glancing again at Saliman.
"I didn't say that." Jubal smiled.
"But you said the S'danzo paid for you to have me freed."
"What I said was, they asked me to free you from the slavers. That's been done. However nothing was said about freeing you from me ... and I happen to have need of your services myself."
"Since when did you need help to steal something," Shadowspawn sneered, his old arrogance back.
"I don't, thief. At least, not from the likes of you," Jubal replied coldly. "There is, however, a task you can perform for me in return for your complete freedom ... one involving someone who trusts you."
"I'm a thief, not an assassin," the youth snapped proudly.
The crime lord raised his eyebrows in exaggerated surprise.
"Reluctant to kill. are you? Strange, I don't recall your showing any reluctance the night you helped Tempus kill four of my men."
Even in the brazier's glow Saliman could see the thief blanch.
"You do remember, don't you? That night outside the Lily Garden? Or perhaps you thought I didn't know about it."
"They attacked us. It was self-defense," Shadowspawn seemed suddenly aware of the hot iron again.
"They were trying to punish Tempus for murdering their comrades ... and stop him from continuing his sport of hunting Hawkmasks, of course," Jubal intoned. "I know you had no choice, however. Otherwise I wouldn't have left your killings without response."
He paused to study the thief.
"Now, if I thought you had a hand in freeing Tempus from Kurd's, I might not be so generous in my treatment of you."
Saliman kept a blank expression as he watched the tl]ieftry to hide his discomfort. It was clear that Hanse was unsure if Jubal was truly ignorant of his part in Tempus's escape, or if he was simply being toyed with. His fear of the crime lord was great enough, however, that he wouldn't risk Jubal's possible wrath by openly admitting his guilt. Saliman knew, however, that now that fear was foremost in the thief's mind, they could get down to business.
"That's all behind us now. Rest assured I don't need you to kill anyone," Jubal said smoothly, as if reading Saliman's thoughts. "Actually, all you have to do to win your freedom is to arrange a meeting for me."
"A meeting?"
"Yes. With Prince Kadakithis. I believe he's a friend of yours?"
The thief was clearly off balance now.
"How did you know that?"
Jubal smiled.
"I've been aware of it for some time. I would suggest, however, if you want it kept secret, that you try to keep the Prince from shouting about it in public ... like, from the top of brick piles?"
Hanse flinched at the memory, but gathered himself to rally back.
"Why do you want to meet with him? I'd have to tell him something."
"Probably not. I believe my name is not exactly unknown to him. Still, if it will ease things, tell him I have a business proposition for him."
"What kind of a proposition?"
Jubal turned back to the brazier and poked at the coals with the iron as he answered
"There's a civil war coming, thief. Not a local upheaval like we've just survived, an Empire-wide struggle. Even you should be able to see that. This town's only hope of success is to rally behind one leader ... and right now Kadakithis would seem to be that leader. I plan to offer him my services . - . mine and my organization's. I believe we can aid him as an intelligence network, providing information and, if need be, stilling dissenting voices. I think even Vashanka's priest would admit our value in that capacity."
The crime lord turned to face the thief.
"All you have to do is arrange the meeting. Unfortunately, my position makes it difficult, if not impossible, to approach him through normal channels. Arrange it, and you may go free."
"What if I agree and just keep going?"
"I'll find you," Jubal said calmly. "More important, until you've discharged your obligation to me, you'll be my slave. Legally, bought and paid for. I don't have to brand you."
The crime lord tossed the iron back into the brazier to illustrate his point. "You'll know it, and I'll know it. I think that knowing you're not your own man, that you belong to me, will mark you more than I could ever do with a branding iron."
Saliman was not so sure, but he had learned to trust Jubal's judgment when it came to people- Watching the thief ponder the proposal, he began to believe anew.
"What if the Prince doesn't agree? He's changed since I've been gone. There's no guarantee I can convince him if he isn't interested in your offer."
"All I ask is that you try." Jubal grimaced. "If he refuses, then I'll let you buy your freedom ... for five hundred in gold."
Shadowspawn's head came up.
"Five hundred? That's not enough!"
Jubal laughed.
"I should think you'd be more likely to argue the price was too high, especially considering what we paid for you. Still, if it will make you feel better, I could name a higher figure."
Shadowspawn shook his head. "You could double it ... triple it even and it would be too low."
"I know," Jubal said solemnly. "The price always sounds low to a slave. It's because he thinks of his worth as a man, while the buyer and seller see him only as merchandise."
Saliman could see the crime lord's thoughts turning to his own beginnings in the gladiator pens, but then Jubal seemed to shake off the memories as he continued.
"The price stands at five hundred," he stated, eyeing the thief. "Frankly, I'd rather you concentrated on arranging the meeting. That is priceless to me."
"I'll see what I can do. Can I go now?"
"One more thing. While you belong to me, I feel a certain responsibility for your safety. Here."
The crime lord produced an oilskin-wrapped package from within his tunic and tossed it to Shadowspawn. Opening it, the thief found a familiar assortment of knives and throwing stars.
"I wouldn't ask you to walk the streets of Sanctuary unarmed. You'll probably feel more comfortable with your weapons. In case you're wondering, a man named Tarkle was selling them."
"I know," the thief growled, settling the glittering bits of death in their customary places. "I recognized his voice when they loaded me on the ship."
Saliman had to hide his smile. Obviously Jubal had planned this surprise as the climax to the interview ... a final demonstration of his access to secret information. The thief had already known the secret, but luckily Shadowspawn was so preoccupied with his knives that he didn't realize how anti-climactic the announcement was.
"Well, whatever you're thinking will have to wait until after you've seen the Prince," Jubal ordered irritably. "I didn't go to all this trouble to lose you in an alley brawl. Remember, for the time being at least, you're not your own man- You're mine."
"Oh, I'll remember. Believe me, I'll remember."
Saliman felt a sudden chill as Shadowspawn met the crime lord's look with a gaze that was not at all subservient.
THE BEST OF FRIENDS by C.J. Cherryh
Morning on the streets of Sanctuary, a cold, knife's edge wind that rattles at shutters prudently closed in the thief-plagued maze, and drizzle comes on that wind, to slick the stones and darken the aged wood and make muck out of the filth that lies in every crack and crevice of the cobbles.
Citizens stir out, nonetheless. A body has to, who wants to eat. Everyone goes cloaked and muffled, from the beggars in their grime-colored rags, to the well-to-do factor on his way to the wharfside warehouses.
Thus Amhan Nas-yeni, an ordinary sort of man, a man with a nobody face and a nobody shock of dark hair beneath the hood, neither tall nor short, stout nor thin. Nas-yeni goes at a moderate pace in these streets, cloaked and muffled, and quite unremarkable among the average Ilsigis of better than average means, merchants, shopkeepers, traders and smiths.