There’s a sect of worshippers of Lims-Kragma, far to the south. They come to the city from time to time, and they can be identified by an amulet they wear. I do not know what they are called.’
Caleb ordered two more items, and said, ‘I will not need the hawk amulet. If, as you say, it is worn by a minor sect far to the south, none of their faithful will be found in Krondor.’ The merchant looked slightly disappointed and immediately began showing other pieces. After a moment, Caleb returned to the hawk. He shrugged. ‘Perhaps I am being hasty.’ Hope spread across the merchant’s face. He had already realized more profit from this one transaction than he earned in a month, but like all of his class, he was anxious for even more. ‘As a curio, perhaps. You say you haven’t seen one exactly like this, but others that are close?’
‘Yes, my friend,’ said Mudara. ‘They are heavier, iron or a metal blend I think, and worn with a stout chain. Under the tunic, as a rule.’
‘Do you think you can find some of those?’
Instantly the man’s face became expressionless. ‘Not of those, I fear. But I have a source for these, if you can wait a week. There are many fine craftsmen in the city who can duplicate anything you give them to copy.’
Caleb shrugged. ‘For my buyers, authenticity is required. They are … collectors, and have no interest in cheap imitations. If you can get some of those medallions you speak of, contact me at the Three Willows. I will be here another two weeks. Send a message to Caleb.’
They finished their transaction and shook, and Caleb departed. As they walked, Caleb said, ‘I want you to hang around this plaza for the rest of the day and watch that merchant. Try not to be seen, but if he does catch a glimpse of you, smile and wave like you’re just about my business. Look at some merchandise, but keep your eyes on him. If he talks to anyone, mark them. If he leaves, follow him, but under no circumstances let him see you following him. If it comes to it, I’d rather have you give up the chase and return to the Three Willows than get spied out. We can always follow him another time. Do you understand?’
Zane nodded, and moved at once to another part of the plaza, so he might circle around and come back to the merchant unseen. Caleb walked purposefully towards Chezarul’s shop, for he needed an experienced agent to track the merchant. He wanted Zane off the man’s trail as soon as possible, but in case the merchant left before one of Chezarul’s men could replace him, he needed eyes on the man. Caleb cursed himself for not thinking of this before he went to see the merchant. He knew his mind wasn’t on the tasks his father had set before him, and now he understood the risks his father had spoken of before he had met Marie. Having people around you about whom you worry is a distraction and makes you vulnerable. He never should have brought the boys with him, he thought.
Zane watched as the market began to build up with people seeking to buy goods on their way home from their own work. Zane knew from experience that this flurry of shopping would end quickly and then the market would soon become deserted as the merchants and their helpers rapidly broke down stalls and tables then carted goods away. He had watched in amazement the first time when the entire market square went from so crowded it was almost impossible to move without jostling someone to deserted in less than an hour. He was almost certain Mudara had not noticed him, but he knew that as soon as the stalls began to break down, hiding would be more difficult.
Zane started looking for a vantage point and spied a deep doorway in which he could hide. He slipped into it and watched. As he anticipated, Mudara was anxious to be on his way to place his order with his suppliers for the items Caleb had purchased. He was among the first to close down his stall and put his amulets and icons into a deep bag. He hefted the bag over his shoulder and quickly moved away.
Zane fell in behind him. He knew that no one was likely to find him now, and was determined not to let Caleb down. He tried his hardest not to skulk and draw attention to himself, but he felt obvious and self-conscious. He kept people between himself and Mudara, and was pleased that the merchant never paused or looked over his shoulder.
They left the crowded streets of the prosperous merchants’ quarters and entered what looked to be a less populated section of the city, dominated by warehouses and the other businesses Zane associated with commerce, leather workers, stables, cartwrights, wheelwrights, an office for porters, and an office that appeared to provide mercenary guards.
Mudara entered a business establishment that had copious amounts of smoke coming from a stone chimney in the rear, and the sounds of hammers ringing out on metal filled the air, despite the late hour. Zane assumed this was the where he had his icons and amulets cast.
Zane couldn’t tell how much time passed while Mudara conducted business inside, but it seemed like hours. It was dark when the man finally came out, and Zane watched him from a vantage point behind some large crates sitting outside a currently unoccupied warehouse.
He decided to follow the man. Either the merchant would go home or lead him to another supplier. The merchant again paid no heed to his surroundings nor appeared to be concerned about being followed, and hurried along.
Zane dodged the occasional passerby, and kept the merchant in his sights. Soon, Mudara’s manner changed, and Zane almost was spotted as the merchant suddenly turned to see if he was being followed. It was only by chance that Zane had been deep in a shadow at that moment, else he would have been found out.
Zane realized at that moment that this was exactly the sort of behaviour Caleb had warned him to be cautious of. The merchant was going somewhere he did not wish to be observed, and without understanding why, Zane knew it was dangerous.
Caleb had impressed on both boys the risks they would face with the life that had been thrust upon them, and for the first time Zane fully understood what Caleb had meant. His mouth was dry and his heart pounded, but Zane mustered his courage and stalked the merchant.
Zane kept track of turns and occasional landmarks, for he was now deep into a district of the city alien to him. He had a sense that this was not the place to be found alone after dark. There was a foreboding aspect to this quarter, streets lacking lanterns and distant, hushed voices. A woman laughed in the night, a harsh shrill sound and Zane knew there was no joy in that sound.
Mudara turned a corner and Zane hurried, then peeked around. On the opposite side of the street, the merchant stood before an unmarked door, knocking loudly, in an odd pattern. One strike, then a pause, then two, then one again, then three.
The door opened and the hair on the back of Zane’s neck rose and a shiver passed through his body. In the doorway stood a man clad in black, his features unseen in the shadows. But the tunic, trousers, and head-covering were exactly as had been described to him before leaving Sorcerer’s Isle. The man was an Izmali assassin, a Keshian Nighthawk.
Mudara spoke rapidly to him and handed him the amulet. The assassin was not pleased to see him and looked out past him, glancing first one way up the street then the other. Zane prayed the man had no special powers, for he knew should he be discovered his life would be forfeit.
Zane watched the two men argue, for it was clear from Mudara’s gestures that he was attempting to convince the assassin of something. Mudara raised his voice, and Zane could hear him say, ‘… worth the risk. If these are the ones we were warned of, we may use them to lead us to …’ the assassin gestured with his hand to lower his voice, and Mudara complied. Zane could not hear what was said after. The assassin spoke softly for a moment longer, and then stepped back into the building, closing the door in Mudara’s face. The merchant turned his back towards Zane and started moving down the street.
Zane began to follow after him, when two powerful hands grabbed him from behind and spun him. Before he could say a word a powerful hand clamped down over his mouth and a voice in his ear said, ‘If you want to stay alive, say nothing.’
Zane’s heart felt as if it would explode out of his chest, but he managed to keep his wits and nod.
The hand released him and a man with a heavy dark beard whispered, ‘Follow me and say nothing until I tell you it is safe.’
He hurried