dangerous man in Silden, my friend. If you can do that, I will help you find the men for whom you are looking. Assuming you survive, of course.’
James blinked. ‘Me, steal? Why would you think I would steal for you?’
‘I have lived enough years to know where eggs come from, young man.’ He smiled. ‘If you are willing to swear by Ban-ath, you’ve walked the dodgy path before.’
James sighed. ‘I would be forswearing my oath to speak truly if I denied such.’
‘Good: to the heart of the matter then. There is just a short walk from here a house, in which dwells a man, by name Jacob Ishandar.’
‘A Keshian?’
‘There are many from Kesh who reside here.’ He touched himself on the chest. ‘Such as I. But this man and others like him have but recently come to Silden, less than two or three years ago. They work on behalf of one who is a spider, sitting at the heart of a vast web, and like the spider, he senses any vibration along that web.’
James nodded. ‘You speak of one known as the Crawler?’
Joftaz inclined his head, indicating that this was the case. ‘This was never what one might call a peaceful community, but it was orderly after a fashion. With the Crawler’s men – Jacob and two called Linsey, and Franklin – came bloodshed and pain beyond what is reasonable for men in our line of work to endure.’
‘What of the local thieves, and those with ties to Rillanon and Krondor?’
‘All gone, save myself. Some have fled, others … disappeared. Any thief I contacted in Silden today would be working for the Crawler. Being Keshian by birth, I think these men did not recognize me for one such as those they sought to destroy. There are still a few of us in Silden who survived, but we conduct no business except what we do in the open, such as my inn. Should these interlopers’ enterprises fail, there will be enough of us returning here to reclaim what was taken from us.’
James scratched his chin as he thought. ‘Before I agree, let me show you something.’ He produced the silver spider. ‘Do you know this?’
‘I have seen such before,’ he said. ‘They are rare and when one comes my way I take notice. They are crafted by a smith in a village in the Peaks of Tranquillity. Those that reach the Kingdom come from Pointer’s Head or Mallow Haven.’ He took it from James’s hand and inspected it. ‘I’ve seen bad copies, but these are far finer. You can’t work silver like this and have it endure unless you have the knack.’
‘Odd sort of bird buys an item like this.’
Joftaz smiled. ‘Night birds, for the most part. You play a dangerous game, my friend. You are just the man I seek.’
‘Well, then, can you tell me who you sold this one to?’
‘Yes, I can, and more.’ Joftaz lost his smile. ‘But not until you conduct some business for me.’
‘Then to specifics.’
‘This man I mentioned, Jacob Ishandar, is chief among those recently come from Kesh. He has in his possession a bag –’ he held his hands apart, indicating a bag the size of a large coin purse or belt pouch ‘– and the contents of that bag are worth enough to underwrite his operation here in Silden for the next year.’
‘And you want me to steal that bag?’
Joftaz nodded.
‘I would think you able to undertake such a task yourself,’ said James.
‘Perhaps, but I must continue to live here in Silden, success or failure. Should you fail, I will still be here.’
‘I see. What’s in the bag.’
‘Heart of Joy,’ said Joftaz.
James closed his eyes a moment. Joy was a common drug in the poor quarters of most cities in Kesh, and showed up from time to time in Krondor and other port cities in the Kingdom. A small amount consumed in wine or water would induce a pleasant euphoria for up to a night. A slightly larger dose would transport the user to a state of happiness that could last days. If the dose was too large, the user would be rendered unconscious.
Heart of Joy was a different thing. It was the essence of the drug, compounded in such a way as to make it easy to transport. When sold, it would be mixed in with a harmless powder, often powdered sugar or even flour, anything that would dissolve. By weight it was worth a thousand times more than Joy when sold on the streets of the city.
‘A bag that size is worth –’
‘Enough to ensure that Jacob will have to run for his life when the Crawler finds out, and any who might be held responsible as well – say Linsey and Franklin – will flee along with him.’
James filled in, ‘Leaving a void into which you can step to re-establish business locally in a fashion more to your liking.’ Narrowing his eyes, James added, ‘And he who finds it will find anxious buyers willing to say nothing about where the drug came from, realizing enormous profits.’
With a smile, Joftaz said, ‘Well, there is that.’
‘So, if I get that bag, you put the Crawler’s agents in Silden out of business and make yourself a fortune in the process.’
‘If all goes well.’
James said, ‘We’ll be in the corner, my friends and I. When you are ready, tell me where I must go and what I must know.’
‘We close the common room at midnight. Wait until I do, then we shall see about your needs.’
James returned to the table, and Owyn said, ‘What did you find out?’
‘That nothing in life is ever free,’ said James, sitting down and leaning his chair back against the wall, settling in for a long afternoon’s wait.
The house was apparently deserted, its occupant away on some errand. Gorath was instructed to stand a few doors down, watching for anyone coming up from the docks. Owyn stood on the other side of the street, watching in the other direction. Both agreed to co-operate, both expressing their doubts as to the wisdom of this enterprise.
James quickly inspected the door for obvious alarms and found none. He judged the lock an easy enough one to pick, but just for reassurance, he ran his thumb along the doorjamb. Unexpectedly he found a crack in the wood, which moved under his thumb. Carefully he pushed on it, and heard a slight click from within. Pushing harder, he moved the wood. From behind it protruded a piece of metal.
James removed a brass key from a hiding place in the wood. He almost laughed. It was an old, very simple trick, and served two purposes: the key was never lost if the owner was in a hurry leaving someplace else, and it disarmed whatever trap waited inside. In the daylight, James expected he could have looked for hours and not seen it, but an old thief had once taught him to trust his other senses, including touch. Running the thumb over the doorjamb occasionally brought splinters as its only reward, but the sound of that click made the hours James had spent fishing splinters out of his thumb with a steel needle worth it.
James still knelt as he pushed the door open slightly, ready for anything that would alert him to another trap. By kneeling, any crossbow bolt aimed at the door should fly overhead.
The door slid open easily and no device sent death his way. He moved quickly through the door and closed it behind him. He inspected the room without moving. He never knew where someone would hide valuables, but most people were predictable. This time, however, he considered the owner of this place was not ‘most people’, but someone who would do something unpredictable. So his first choice was to look for something out of place.
The room was undistinguished. A simple table, a large breakfront clothes closet, and a bed. A door to a rear yard where the outhouse would be. A fireplace, above which rested potted plants on a wide mantel, and next to that a door leading into a small kitchen.
Then it registered