middle of the raid?”
“Better than that,” Saliman said proudly, “I took the records of our holdings.”
From the early beginnings of Jubal’s rise to power in Sanctuary, he had followed
Saliman’s advice-particularly when it concerned the safety of his wealth.
Relatively little of his worth was kept at the estate but was instead spread
secretly through the town as both investments and caches. In a town like
Sanctuary there were many who would gladly supplement their income by holding a
package of unknown content for an equally unknown patron.
Jubal forced himself up into a sitting position. “That raises a question I’ve
been meaning to ask since the raid: why did you save me? You placed yourself in
physical danger, even killed to get me out alive. Now, it seems, you’ve got the
records of my holdings, most of which you’ve managed. You could be a wealthy
man-if I were dead. Why risk it all in an attempt to pluck a wounded man from
the midst of his enemies?”
Saliman got up and wandered to the doorway. He leaned against the rough wood
frame and stared at the sky before he answered. “When we met-when you hired me
you saved me from the slave block by letting me buy my freedom with my promises.
You wouldn’t have me as a slave, you said, because slaves were untrustworthy.
You wanted me as a freeman, earning a decent living for services rendered-and
with the choice to leave if I felt my fortunes might be better somewhere else.”
He turned to face Jubal directly. “I pledged that I would serve you with all my
talents and that if I ever should leave I would face you first with my reasons