Robert Asprin: The Dead of Winter

"These are dangerous times," Jubal said without a trace of apology. "One as observant as yourself must surely have noticed that, even though you have seldom relayed such information to me since your promotion."

Hakiem felt vaguely uncomfortable at this subtle accusation. He knew that he had long enjoyed favored status in Jubal's eyes, and at one time would have tentatively called him a friend. Now, however ...

"I have brought someone to meet you," he said, striving to shift the conversation away from himself. "Allow me to present ..."

"You would not have reached me if I hadn't known both that you were accompanied by someone and that person's identity," Jubal interrupted. "All that remains to be discovered is the motive for this visit. You may remove your blindfold as well. Lord Setmur. My earlier instruction was meant for both of you."

Hakiem's companion hastily removed his eye covering and stood squinting nervously.

"I ... I wasn't sure, and thought it better to err on the side of caution."

"A sentiment we both share," Jubal said with a smile. "Now tell me, why would one of you Beysib interlopers, much less the head of the Setmur clan of fishermen, seek an audience with a lowly Sanctuarite such as myself? I am neither noble nor fisherman, and it's been my impression that the Beysib are interested in little else in our town."

Hakiem felt a moment of sympathy for the little Beysib. Monkel Setmur was unaccustomed to dealing with those who specialized in words, much less those who habitually honed their tongues to razor-sharpness. It was clear that Jubal was in a bad mood and ready to vent his annoyance on his hapless visitor.

"Surely you can't hold Monkel here responsible for ..."

"Stay out of this, old one," Jubal snapped, stopping Hakiem's attempted defense with a suddenly pointing finger. "Speaking for the Beysib has become a habit with you which would be better broken. I wish to hear Lord Setmur's thoughts directly."

Sketching a bow so formal it reeked of sarcasm, Hakiem lapsed into silence. In truth, he himself was curious about the reason behind Monkel's visit. The Beysib had sought out Hakiem to arrange an audience with Jubal, but had steadfastly refused to reveal his motive.

The Beysib licked his lips nervously, then locked gazes with the ex-crimelord and straightened his back proudly.

"One hears that you have power in the streets of Sanctuary ... and that of the gang leaders, you are the only one whose favor can be bought."

Hakiem winced inwardly. If Monkel had intended to make an enemy of Jubal, he could not have picked a better opening gambit. The diplomat in him wanted to close his eyes and avoid the sight of Jubal's response to this insult, but the storyteller part of him required that he witness every detail and nuance.

To his surprise, Jubal did not immediately lash out in anger ... either verbally or physically.

"That is a common misconception," he said instead, nodding slowly. "In truth, I am simply more open about my interest in money than most. There are some causes or chores which even I and my forces will not touch ... regardless of the fee."

The head of the Setmur clan sagged slightly at this news. His gaze dropped, and as he replied, his voice was lacking the edge of confidence and arrogance it had held earlier.

"If by that you mean you wish to have nothing to do with my people, then I will waste no more of your time. It had been my intention to ask for your protection for the Beysib here in Sanctuary. In return, I was willing to pay handsomely ... either a flat fee or, if you wished, a percentage of my clan's revenues."

In his head, Hakiem damned Monkel for his secrecy. If only the little fisherman had asked his counsel before they were in Jubal's presence. On the surface the proposal seemed reasonable enough, except.... It was common knowledge in town that Jubal had long sought to obtain a foothold on Sanctuary's wharfs, but that to date he had been forestalled by the tight unity of the fishing community. Apparently this common knowledge had escaped the ears of Lord Setmur. Either that or he was unaware of the fragility of the union between his clan and the local fishermen. If the local captains discovered that he was offering Jubal an opening to drive a wedge into the fishing community in exchange for safety ...

"Your request is not unreasonable, and the price you offer is tempting," Jubal said thoughtfully, the earlier note of mockery in his voice gone now. "Unfortunately I am not in a position to enter into such a negotiation. Please accept my assurance that this is not because I hold a grudge against your people, but rather that I would be unable to fulfill my part of the bargain."

"But I thought ..." Monkel began, but Jubal waved him to silence.

"Let me explain the current situation to you, Lord Setmur, as I see it. The city is currently a battlefield. Many factions are fighting for control of the streets. Though it may seem that the Beysib are the target of this violence, they are more often than not innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire of the real war."

Jubal was leaning forward in his chair now, his eyes burning with intensity as he warmed to the subject.

"If I were to guarantee the safety of your people, it would mean openly committing my troops to your defense. Anyone who wanted to attack me would soon learn that all that was necessary would be to attack the Beysib. whereupon my forces would emerge from hiding to receive the brunt of the attack. In short, rather than relieving you of your enemies, your proposed deal would simply add my enemies to yours ... a situation less than favorable to the Beysib. As for me, I cannot afford to have my fighting strength eroded away by becoming predictable. My current activities are more covert in nature, playing each faction off against the others so that they will be weakened as I grow stronger. When I am confident that there is sufficient inequity of power to assure a victory, my forces will sweep the streets and restore order once again. At that time, we wi!l be able to discuss terms of coexistence. Until then, you are best to heed the advice of people such as Hakiem here in regards to which faction holds which neighborhood, and plan your movements accordingly. Such information is readily enough available that there is no need to pay my prices for it."

"I see," Monkel said softly. "In that case, I thank you for your time ..."

"Not so hasty. Lord Setmur," Jubal interrupted with a smile. "I occasionally deal in currency other than gold. Now, I have given you some new and honest information. Could I trouble you to respond in kind?"

"But ..." the little Beysib shot a confused glance at Hakiem in silent appeal for guidance. "What information could I possibly have that would interest you? All I know is fishing."

"I am still learning about the Beysib," Jubal said. "Specifically, about how they think. For example, it occurs to me that the fishing clan of Setmur has suffered few casualties in the street wars when compared to the losses experienced by the royal clan Burek. 1 am therefore surprised that the request for my protection comes from you rather than a representative of the clan suffering the most from the current civil upheaval. Perhaps you could enlighten me as to this seeming contradiction?"

Monkel was taken aback. Apparently it had never occurred to him that he would have to explain his motives to Jubal.

"Could ... could it not be that the loss of any countryman concerns me? That clan Setmur stands ready to pay the price for the good of all?"

"It could be," Jubal acknowledged. "Though it would mean that your people are considerably more noble than mine ... particularly when the poorer stand ready to pay for the protection of the richer. I had thought that the reason might possibly be that you suddenly had reason to be personally interested in the safety of clan Burek ... say, specifically, the safety of one member of that clan? A guardswoman, perhaps?"