I’ve underestimated you again. You didn’t bring me here to ask my reasons for
quitting. It seems my thoughts were already known to you. What you really wanted
was to recruit me as your spy.’
‘I suspected your reasons,’ Jubal admitted. ‘But spy is an ugly word. Still, the
life of a spy is dangerous and would command a high wage … say, fifty in gold
each week? With bonuses for particularly valuable reports?’
‘To betray the other powers of Sanctuary while feeding your strength.’ Hakiem
laughed. ‘And what if the Beysib ask about you? They’ll grow suspicious if there
is a blind spot in my reporting.’
‘Answer them as truthfully as you would when questioned about anyone else.’ The
ex-gladiator shrugged. ‘I’m hiring you to gather information, not to protect me
at your own expense. Admit everything, including that you have ways of
contacting me, should the need arise. Tell the truth as often as you can. It
will increase the odds of them believing you when you do find it necessary to
lie.’
‘I’ll consider it,’ the storyteller said. ‘But I’ll tell you the only reason I’d
even think about such a pact is that you and your ghosts are one of the last
effective forces in Sanctuary, now that the Stepsons have left.’
Something nickered across Jubal’s face, then was gone.
‘The Stepsons?’ he asked. ‘When last I heard, they still ruled the streets. What
makes you think they’re gone?’
‘Don’t toy with me, Hawkmaster,’ Hakiem scolded, reaching for more wine, only to
find the bottle empty. ‘You, who know even what’s going on in my own head, must