doses of his potion, thinking it would speed the healing. By the time he
realized what was happening the damage had been done. Besides, he filled his
part of the bargain. I can walk, even run-just as he claimed. But as a leader of
men, I’m finished. A common merchant with a cane could beat me in a fight-much
less the swordsmen we had planned to challenge.” A silence fell over the group,
one which Jubal felt with ever-increasing discomfort. “Well, Hakiem,” he said
with forced cheerfulness, “you have your story. Tell it well and you’ll have
wine money for a year.”
The old talespinner sank slowly into his favored squat and scratched absently.
“Forgive me-I had been expecting a better ending.”
“So had I,” Jubal snarled, his carefully rehearsed poise slipping before
Hakiem’s insolence. “But I was given little choice in the final outcome. Am I
not right, Saliman? Look me in the eye and tell me that at this moment you are
not pondering where you may go now in search of someone who can give you your
revenge? Or are you going to lie and say you think I still have a fighting
chance against Tempus?”
“Actually, that was one of the things I meant to speak to you about,” Saliman
admitted, looking away. “I’ve done much thinking in the time since we parted and
my current feeling is that under no circumstances should we pursue Tempus at
all.”
“What-but he…”
“He did nothing anyone else wouldn’t have done had he the strength,” Saliman
said over Jubal’s objections. “The fault was ours. We were far too open at the
end, flaunting our wealth and power, strutting through the streets in our