Timothy Jacoby leaned forward. “I promised you nothing, deWitt. I said you’d have an opportunity to make a killing.” His own anger matched that of companions. “But I never guaranteed you anything.”
A third man said, “This is pointless. The question is, what do we do?”
“I’m going to see Esterbrook,” answered Jacoby, standing abrubtly, so that his chair fell backwards, striking a drunk who lay facedown at the next table. The drunk barely stirred. Jacoby glanced at the nearly comatose man. “Meet me back here in two hours. I’ll have some sort of answer.”
The five men rose and left and after a minute, the drunk stood up. He was a young man of average height, and the only thing remarkable about him was his hair, which was a very pale blond, nearly white when seen in sunlight. He kept a wool sailor’s cap tight on his head, so that this unusual feature was hidden. Moving with purpose, he left the room and followed the five men out the door.
Once outside the inn, the blond man glanced around until he saw a figure appear from deep within a nearby doorway. He waited until the second figure closed to him. “Well?” asked Dash of the false drunk.
“Go back and tell your employer that he’s stirred up a hornet’s nest. Tell him Tim Jacoby is rushing to get some answers from Jacob Estherbrook. I’m going to follow Jacoby and see if I can overhear what he and Estherbrook are going to plan.”
Dash said, “Well, at least you don’t have to try to climb to the rooftops and hang upside down outside windows. You never were very good at that.”
Jimmy smiled at his younger brother. “Well, you weren’t much for picking pockets, either.” He gripped his brother by the arm. “You are certain Father believes I’m out dining with you?”
Dash shrugged. “That’s what I told him. Don’t worry. Unless you get yourself killed, Grandfather will sort things out with Father should we run into trouble. He always does.”
“Well, hurry along. They’re due to meet back here in two hours. You would do well to have someone else inside before then, in case I can’t get back ahead of Jacoby.” He patted his brother’s arm. “See you later tonight.”
Dash hurried off into the darkness, and Jimmy moved to where his horse had been hidden. He mounted and rode out toward the eastern gate, looking about to ensure no one spotted him or was following him.
As he left the city gate, he caught sight of Jacoby on the road ahead, his figure outlined against the darkness by the light from the large moon, which was directly overhead. Jimmy slowed his own horse, lest he ride upon the heels of his prey.
By the time Jimmy reached the outer wall of the Estherbrook estate, he was certain getting inside would prove easy. Getting out, he thought to himself, might prove more difficult.
Like his brother, Jimmy had grown up in the palace at Rillanon, where their father, Arutha, had served with their grandfather, then Duke of Rillanon. Arutha—named for the late Prince of Krondor—had been raised in a far more genteel fashion than his father, who had been a notorious boy thief until Prince Arutha had taken him into service.
But the grandsons had listened to their grandfather James’s stories, and by the ages of seven and five the palace was constantly troubled by two boys climbing walls, skipping along rooftops, picking locks, eavesdropping on state meetings, and otherwise creating difficulties far beyond what one would expect from two children of their size or experience.
By the time they were eleven and nine, the boys’ father had decided that the hearty life along the frontier would teach them a thing or two. So Jimmy and Dash had been packed off to the frontier court at Crydee, home of Duke Marcus, the King’s cousin.
Their visit had lasted two years, and by the time the two brothers returned to Rillanon, they were sunburned, tougher, more self-reliant, fair trackers, better hunters, and now thoroughly incorrigible. In the subsequent five years, both sons had been thrown out of the palace by their father and grandfather several times in the hope they would discover just how lucky they were to be among the elite of the Kingdom.
Each time the boys managed rather well, living by their wits and guile, and frequently using the skills developed driving the palace staff to distraction to provide sustenance. They had even run afoul of the Thieves’ Guild in Rillanon on two occasions and survived to tell the tale.
The last time they had been banished from the palace, their father had relented after three weeks and had gone looking for them, only to find they now had a controlling interest in one of the seedier bordellos along the docks. They had won it playing cards.