“Could … could it not be that the loss of any countryman concerns me? That
clan Setmur stands ready to pay the price for the good of all?”
“It could be,” Jubal acknowledged. “Though it would mean that your people are
considerably more noble than mine … particularly when the poorer stand ready
to pay for the protection of the richer. I had thought that the reason might
possibly be that you suddenly had reason to be personally interested in the
safety of clan Burek … say, specifically, the safety of one member of that
clan? A guardswoman, perhaps?”
Monkel simply gaped, unable to respond. As a relative newcomer to Sanctuary, he
had not expected Jubal’s information network to include his own personal
activities. As head of one of the two clans of invaders, he should have known
better.
“If that were indeed the case,” Jubal continued smoothly, “we might yet work
something out. The safety of one person I could guarantee.”
“… At a reduced rate, of course,” Hakiem said, risking Jubal’s wrath but
unable to hold his silence.
“Of course,” Jubal echoed without releasing the Beysib from his gaze. “Well,
Lord Setmur?”
“I … I would have to think about it,” Monkel managed at last. “I hadn’t
considered this possibility.”
“Very well,” Jubal said briskly. “Take your time. If you wish to discuss the
matter further, wear a red neck scarf. One of my agents will identify himself to
you with the word Guardswoman and lead you to my current headquarters. While
Hakiem here is trustworthy enough, there is no need for you to have to contact