“This is the way you will travel,” answered the spokesman. “If you refuse, you will go not one step farther.”
Arutha fought down irritation and nodded, once. The men came forward and Arutha saw Jimmy blindfolded an instant before he was roughly denied light himself. Struggling against the urge to pull the blindfold away, Arutha heard the man speak. “You will both be led from here to another place, where others will come to guide you. You may be passed along through many hands before you reach your destination, so do not become alarmed should you hear unexpected voices in the dark. I do not know what your ultimate destination is, for I do not need to know. I also do not know who you are, man, but orders have come down from one most highly placed that you are to be led quickly and delivered unharmed. But be warned: remove your blindfold only at grave risk. You may not know where you are from this moment henceforth.” Arutha felt a rope being tied around his waist and heard the speaker say, “Hold tightly to the rope and keep a sure foot; we travel at good pace.”
Without further word, Arutha was jerked around and led off into the night.
For more than an hour, or so it seemed to the Prince, he had been led about the streets of Krondor. He had twice stumbled and had bruises to show for the casual care given by his guides. At least three times he had changed guides, so he had no idea whom he would see when the blindfold was removed. But at last he climbed a flight of stairs. He heard several doors open and shut before strong hands forced him to sit. At last the blindfold was removed and Arutha blinked as he was dazzled by the light.
Arrayed along a table was a series of lanterns, with a polished reflector behind each, all turned to face him. Each cast a brilliant illumination into the Prince’s eyes, preventing him from seeing anyone who stood behind that table.
Arutha looked to his right and saw Jimmy sitting upon another stool. After a long moment a deep voice rumbled from behind the lights. “Greetings, Prince of Krondor.”
Arutha squinted against the light, but could catch no glimpse of who spoke from behind the glare. “Am I speaking to the Upright Man?”
A long pause preceded the answer. “Be satisfied that I am empowered to reach any understanding you may desire. I speak with his voice.”
Arutha considered for a moment. “Very well. I seek an alliance.”
From behind the glare came a deep chuckle. “What would the Prince of Krondor need of the Upright Man’s aid?”
“I seek to learn the secrets of the Guild of Death.”
A long silence followed on the heels of this statement. Arutha couldn’t decide if the speaker was consulting another person or simply thinking. Then the voice behind the lanterns said, “Remove the boy and hold him outside.”
Two men appeared from out of the dark and roughly grabbed Jimmy, hauling him from the room. When he was gone, the voice said, “The Nighthawks are a source of concern for the Upright Man, Prince of Krondor. They trespass upon the Thieves’ Highway and their black murders stir up the populace, casting unwelcome light upon the Mockers’ many activities. In short, they are bad for business. It would serve us to see them ended, but what cause have you beyond that which normally occupies a ruler when his subjects are being wantonly murdered in their sleep?”
“They pose a threat to my brother and myself.”
Again there was a long silence. “Then they set their sights high. Still, royalty often needs killing as much as the commons, and a man must earn a living howsoever he may, even though he be an assassin.”
“It should be apparent to you,” said Arutha dryly, “that murdering Princes would be especially bad for business. The Mockers would find things a little cramped working in a city under martial law.”
“This is true. Name your bargain.”
“I ask no bargain. I demand cooperation. I need information. I wish to know where lies the heart of the Nighthawks.”
“Altruism accrues little benefit to those lying cold in the gutter. The arm of the Guild of Death is long.”
“No longer than mine,” said Arutha in a voice devoid of humor. “I can see that the activities of the Mockers suffer greatly. You know as well as I what would happen to the Mockers should the Prince of Krondor declare war upon your guild.”
“There is little profit in such contention between the guild and Your Highness.”
Arutha leaned forward, his dark eyes gleaming from the brilliant lights. Slowly, biting off each word, he said, “I have no need of profit.”
A moment of silence was followed by a deep sigh. “Yes, there is that,” said the voice thoughtfully. Then it chuckled. “That is one of the advantages to inheriting one’s position. It would prove troublesome to govern a guild of starving thieves. Very well, Arutha of Krondor, but for this risk the guild needs indemnity. You’ve shown the stick, now what of the carrot?”