Flight of the Nighthawks (21 page)

“That's a long story, too,” said Caleb. “How'd you like me to stand you to a meal and a warm bed?”

“Fine by me, but I'd rather find steady work. Truth to tell, this city may be the greatest in the world, but it's a fair bastard on a lad without family or guild, and that's the truth.”

“Walk with us,” said Caleb, “and I'll tell you about my trips to your homeland.”

Tad and Zane exchanged questioning looks, but said nothing. But they had an odd feeling that somehow they had let a stray dog follow them home and fed it. What they didn't know was if the dog would bite.

 

Zane stood quietly next to Caleb as he examined the religious icons. Tad had been sent on a pointless errand with Jommy, who it seemed had attached himself to Caleb and the boys with no apparent effort. They had sat around the table at the inn the night before and ex
changed stories, and Tad and Zane both had found the new boy likable, amusing, and a reasonable companion. Caleb hadn't told either of his stepsons why he had decided to keep Jommy close, but given how difficult this city could be, and how handy the large redhead was in a brawl, they were glad for the addition.

Caleb examined and ordered a full half-dozen pieces before picking up the hawk. It was not the same icon as the one on the amulet worn by the Nighthawks, but it was close. “I don't recognize this,” said Caleb.

The merchant, named Mudara, said, “It is strange to me, as well. I purchased it from a boy, a beggar or thief perhaps, but before that, its provenance is unknown. I have seen similar icons from time to time, but not one quite like this.” He was a thin, nervous man, with a beak of a nose and a receding chin. His eyes, however, showed a man of shrewd judgment, an experienced businessman who should not be underestimated.

Caleb shrugged, as if it were of little importance, and he looked at two others before returning to the hawk. “You say you've seen others almost like this?”

“Yes. There's a sect of worshipers of Lims-Kragma, far to the south. They come to the city from time to time, and they can be identified by an amulet they wear. I do not know what they are called.”

Caleb ordered two more items, and said, “I will not need the hawk amulet. If, as you say, it is worn by a minor sect far to the south, none of their faithful will be found in Krondor.” The merchant looked slightly disappointed and immediately began showing other pieces. After a moment, Caleb returned to the hawk. He shrugged. “Perhaps I am being hasty.” Hope spread across the merchant's face. He had already realized more profit from this one transaction than he earned in a month, but like all of his class, he was anxious for even more. “As a curio, perhaps. You say you haven't seen one exactly like this, but others that are close?”

“Yes, my friend,” said Mudara. “They are heavier, iron or a metal blend, I think, and worn with a stout chain. Under the tunic, as a rule.”

“Do you think you can find some of those?”

Instantly the man's face became expressionless. “Not of those, I fear. But I have a source for these, if you can wait a week. There are many fine craftsmen in the city who can duplicate anything you give them to copy.”

Caleb shrugged. “For my buyers, authenticity is required. They are…collectors, and have no interest in cheap imitations. If you can get some of those medallions you speak of, contact me at the Three Willows. I will be here another two weeks. Send a message to Caleb.”

They finished their transaction and shook, and Caleb departed. As they walked, Caleb said, “I want you to hang around this plaza for the rest of the day and watch that merchant. Try not to be seen, but if he does catch a glimpse of you, smile and wave like you're just about my business. Look at some merchandise, but keep your eyes on him. If he talks to anyone, mark them. If he leaves, follow him, but under no circumstances let him see you following him. If it comes to it, I'd rather have you give up the chase and return to the Three Willows than get spied out. We can always follow him another time. Do you understand?”

Zane nodded, and moved at once to another part of the plaza, so he might circle around and come back to the merchant unseen. Caleb walked purposefully toward Chezarul's shop, for he needed an experienced agent to track the merchant. He wanted Zane off the man's trail as soon as possible, but in case the merchant left before one of Chezarul's men could replace him, he needed eyes on the man. Caleb cursed himself for not thinking of this before he went to see the merchant. He knew his mind wasn't on the tasks his father had set before him, and now he understood the risks his father had spoken of before he had met Marie. Having people around you about whom you worry is a distraction and makes you vulnerable. He never should have brought the boys with him, he thought.

 

Zane watched as the market began to build up with people seeking to buy goods on their way home from their own work. Zane knew from experience that this flurry of shopping would end quickly and then
the market would soon become deserted as the merchants and their helpers rapidly broke down stalls and tables then carted goods away. He had watched in amazement the first time when the entire market square went from so crowded it was almost impossible to move without jostling someone to deserted in less than an hour. He was almost certain Mudara had not noticed him, but he knew that as soon as the stalls began to break down, hiding would be more difficult.

Zane started looking for a vantage point and spied a deep doorway in which he could hide. He slipped into it and watched. As he anticipated, Mudara was anxious to be on his way to place his order with his suppliers for the items Caleb had purchased. He was among the first to close down his stall and put his amulets and icons into a deep bag. He hefted the bag over his shoulder and quickly moved away.

Zane fell in behind him. He knew that no one was likely to find him now, and was determined not to let Caleb down. He tried his hardest not to skulk and draw attention to himself, but he felt obvious and self-conscious. He kept people between himself and Mudara, and was pleased that the merchant never paused or looked over his shoulder.

They left the crowded streets of the prosperous merchants' quarters and entered what looked to be a less populated section of the city, dominated by warehouses and the other businesses Zane associated with commerce, leather workers, stables, cartwrights, wheelwrights, an office for porters, and an office that appeared to provide mercenary guards.

Mudara entered a business establishment that had copious amounts of smoke coming from a stone chimney in the rear, and the sounds of hammers ringing out on metal filled the air, despite the late hour. Zane assumed this was where he had his icons and amulets cast.

Zane couldn't tell how much time passed while Mudara conducted business inside, but it seemed like hours. It was dark when the man finally came out, and Zane watched him from a vantage point behind some large crates sitting outside a currently unoccupied warehouse.

He decided to follow the man. Either the merchant would go home or lead him to another supplier. The merchant again paid no heed to his surroundings and did not appear to be concerned about being followed, and hurried along.

Zane dodged the occasional passerby, and kept the merchant in his sight. Soon, Mudara's manner changed, and Zane almost was spotted as the merchant suddenly turned to see if he was being followed. It was only by chance that Zane had been deep in a shadow at that moment, else he would have been found out.

Zane realized at that moment that this was exactly the sort of behavior Caleb had warned him to be cautious of. The merchant was going somewhere he did not wish to be observed, and without understanding why, Zane knew it was dangerous.

Caleb had impressed on both boys the risks they would face with the life that had been thrust upon them, and for the first time Zane fully understood what Caleb had meant. His mouth was dry and his heart pounded, but Zane mustered his courage and stalked the merchant.

Zane kept track of turns and occasional landmarks, for he was now deep into a district of the city alien to him. He had a sense that this was not the place to be found alone after dark. There was a foreboding aspect to this quarter, streets lacking lanterns and distant, hushed voices. A woman laughed in the night, a harsh shrill sound, and Zane knew there was no joy in that sound.

Mudara turned a corner and Zane hurried, then peeked around. On the opposite side of the street, the merchant stood before an unmarked door, knocking loudly, in an odd pattern. One strike, then a pause, then two, then one again, then three.

The door opened and the hair on the back of Zane's neck rose and a shiver passed through his body. In the doorway stood a man clad in black, his features unseen in the shadows. But the tunic, trousers, and head covering were exactly as had been described to him before leaving Sorcerer's Isle. The man was an Izmali assassin, a Keshian Nighthawk.

Mudara spoke rapidly to him and handed him the amulet. The assassin was not pleased to see him and looked out past him, glancing
first one way up the street then the other. Zane prayed the man had no special powers, for he knew that should he be discovered, his life would be forfeit.

Zane watched the two men argue, for it was clear from Mudara's gestures that he was attempting to convince the assassin of something. Mudara raised his voice, and Zane could hear him say, “…worth the risk. If these are the ones we were warned of, we may use them to lead us to…” The assassin gestured with his hand to lower his voice, and Mudara complied. Zane could not hear what was said after. The assassin spoke softly for a moment longer, and then stepped back into the building, closing the door in Mudara's face. The merchant turned his back toward Zane and started moving down the street.

Zane began to follow after him, when two powerful hands grabbed him from behind and spun him around. Before he could say a word a powerful hand clamped down over his mouth and a voice in his ear said, “If you want to stay alive, say nothing.”

Zane's heart felt as if it would explode out of his chest, but he managed to keep his wits and nod.

The hand was released and a man with a heavy dark beard whispered, “Follow me and say nothing until I tell you it is safe.”

He hurried away and Zane followed. They spent the better part of a half hour ducking in and out of shadowed doors and passing through alleys. After they reached a more populated and better lit section of the city, the man turned and said, “You are Zane?”

“I am,” said the young man, out of breath and his knees trembling from exhaustion and fear.

“Chezarul sent me to find you in the plaza, but you were leaving behind the merchant when I got there. You followed him, and I followed you, for I feared that should I overtake you, the merchant might have seen us.”

Zane nodded. “Why did you grab me, then?”

“If you had followed after the merchant from where I found you, you would have been killed. It is their practice to leave their meetings by a false path, and any who follow are slain. We lost four good men until we discovered their practice.”

“Who are they?”

“The Guild of Death. The Nighthawks,” said the bearded man. “I am Choyoba.” He looked around. “Come. I will take you back to the Three Willows.” Zane nodded and followed the man.

 

“You did well,” said Chezarul to Zane.

Caleb nodded agreement. “Yes, you did.”

Zane was too drained by the experience to even smile. He just nodded.

“So now you know where to find the Nighthawks?” asked Tad.

Chezarul shook his head and said, “No, my young friend. The Nighthawks have found us.”

When Tad's expression showed he didn't understand, Caleb said, “It's a trap.”

“A trap?” asked Zane.

Caleb said, “The mock amulet was put there so that I, or someone else from the Conclave, would find it. Anyone else would have ignored it or even purchased it as a charm, but for me to inquire about one that was similar, that signaled to the Nighthawks that I was seeking them. It may have been out there for months. It's the sort of thing that would be of no interest to anyone but us.

“And we are ‘taking the bait.'”

“I don't see…” began Tad.

“The Nighthawks are setting traps. They know that with the killings in the city it would only be a matter of time before we investigate,” said Caleb. “So they put out a false amulet, one that looks enough like their own society's mark that anyone looking for the Guild of Death would be curious as to its origin.

“We did as they expected us to do. We inquired, and they deliver what we ask. The argument you observed was probably over telling us no to the true amulets, and then trying to follow us from the market, or agreeing to give us copies, then setting a trap: when we come to pick up the goods, they will either take us or, more likely, follow us back here to see where we are based. Then comes the killing.”

Chezarul said, “These murderous dogs are a plague on the peace of our city. More, they're bad for business. We shall see an end to them
one day, and I hope that day is near.” He turned to Caleb. “Avoid the market tomorrow. I need to make preparations for our coming encounter, and some of my men are out of the city. Give me two days to muster my forces, then go see this merchant. In three days they will come here, and we shall be ready for them.”

“Pablo will not be pleased we're going to turn his inn into a battlefield,” said Caleb.

“Nothing so bad happens that Pablo's humor cannot be improved by gold,” said Chezarul. “Besides, in his way he's as steadfast as any of us.”

Caleb nodded and said, “Very well. I shall take the boys riding tomorrow, out of the city toward the shores of the Overn. We will be looking at something or another out there, perhaps exotic fish caught in the lake.”

Chezarul grinned. “Crocodiles, perhaps?”