“Secret police,” said Jadow.
“Something like that,” said de Loungville. “Avery, you’re the quickest man here; stay close to me. Erik, you and Jadow are too big to escape notice for long, so stay where I put you and don’t move. Once we leave this inn, no talking. Any questions?”
There were none, and de Loungville led them out of the back of the inn. They hurried through the streets, attempting to look like nothing more than four citizens on some errand or another, urgent perhaps, but unremarkable.
They passed a booth at a corner where the Poor Quarter began and saw Duncan and the man named William engaged in deep debate with the vendor. Roo noticed that Duncan stood in such a way that his holding a sword point to the other man’s ribs was difficult to ascertain, while William was ready to intercept any who might come too close to the booth.
They turned down a short street to another avenue paralleling the first, and turned the corner. With a wave of his hand, de Loungville motioned for Jadow and Erik to secrete themselves within a deep and relatively dark doorway, while he quickly moved across the street with Roo. Using hand signals, he indicated Roo should stand against the wall between a doorway and a window. De Loungville took up a position at the corner of the building, between the door and an alleyway that ran next to the building. From within the building, Roo heard the sounds of what he took to be a merchant moving portions of his inventory around. He resisted the impulse to peek into the window and tried to look like a man simply lounging for a minute, while he kept his eyes darting around, looking for signs of trouble.
A figure swept out of the darkness, bundled in a great cloak. Vaguely, behind him, figures seemed to melt away into the darkness and Roo sensed more than saw others taking up nearby positions.
The robed man moved purposefully past Roo and took the three steps up to the door of the establishment. Roo glimpsed him as he passed and Roo’s eyes widened. The man entered the shop, closing the door behind. Roo heard a voice say, “Can I help—”
“Hello,” interrupted a familiar voice.
A long silence was followed by the first voice saying, “James?”
“It’s been a while,” answered Lord James, Duke of Krondor. “What? Forty years?”
“More.” There was a long silence, then the man said, “I assume your men are outside.”
“Sufficient to make sure this conversation is uninterrupted and ends when I say it ends.”
Again there was a silence, and the sound of two men moving around. What sounded like chairs being pulled across the floor ended with James saying, “Thank you.”
“I don’t suppose it would do any good claiming I’ve long since gone straight and am nothing more than a simple merchant.”
“Claim all you want, Brian,” said James. “Thirty years ago, when I had heard a merchant named Lysle Rigger had shown up in Krondor, I asked Prince Arutha to set agents on you like hounds on a trail. Even when I was ruling in Rillanon these last twenty years, I’ve had regular reports on you.”
“Rigger. I haven’t used that name in years. I haven’t used that name since—where was it we met?”
“We met in Lyton,” said James.
“Yes, now I remember,” came the reply. “I used it only a few times since then.”
“No matter.” James sighed audibly. “It took the Prince’s men a few years to make sure they had all your bolt-holes covered and your runners identified, but once they did, it was easy enough for me to keep track of you.”
“You’ve better men than we thought. We’re always on the lookout for agents of the Crown.”
James said, “That’s because until tonight we were content to simply watch. Remember, I used to be a Mocker. There are still a few around who remember Jimmy the Hand.”
“Now what?”
“Well, you’re going to have to change your name again, and do something about your appearance. If you don’t, the beggars and thieves will decide it’s time for a new leader.”
There was a chuckle and Roo strained to hear every word. “You know, it all goes back to that business with the Crawler. If he hadn’t tried to take over the guild in the first place, we’d have had a far more orderly change than we had when the Virtuous Man took over. That was a mess.”
“So I hear,” said James. “But that’s neither here nor there. What brings me to you tonight, Lysle, or Brian if you prefer, is this: lately, you’ve lost control over the guild. Ton many happy little cutthroats are running around my city killing my law-abiding, tax-paying citizens. A little theft and larceny are normal for a city like Krondor, but last night one of your butchers killed a stableboy, two barmaids, and four horses as a ‘warning’ to a young wine merchant that he needed to pay protection.”
“That is excessive,” agreed the man named Brian.
“So was the protection price,” said James.