Storm Season- - Thieves World 04 Read Free Page B

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 for leaving. I said that until then you need never doubt my intentions or loyalties. . .
    "You laughed at the time, but I was serious. I promised my mind and life to the person who allowed me to regain my freedom on his trust alone. At the time of the raid I had not spoken to you about resigning, and while I usually content myself with protecting your interests and leave the protecting of your life to yourself and others, I would have been remiss to my oath if I had not at least tried to rescue you. And, as it turned out, I was able to rescue you." The slaver studied his aide's face. The limbs were softer and the belly fuller than the angry slave's who had once struggled wildly with the guards while shouting his promises-but the face was as gaunt as it ever had been and the eyes were still bright with intelligence.
    "And why was that resignation never offered, Saliman?" Jubal asked softly. "I know you had other offers. I often waited for you to ask me for more money-but you never did. Why?"
    "I was happy where I was. Working for you gave me an unusual blend of security and excitement with little personal risk-at least until quite recently. Once, I used to daydream about being an adventurer or a fearless leader of men. Then, I met you and learned what it took to lead that sort of life; I lack the balance of caution and recklessness, the sheer personal charisma necessary for leadership. I know that now and am content to do what I do best: risking someone else's money or giving advice to the person who actually has to make the life and-death decisions."
    A cloud passed over Saliman's expression. "That doesn't mean, however, that I don't share many of your emotions. I helped you build your web of power in Sanctuary; helped you select and hire the hawkmasks who were so casually butchered in the raid. I, too, want revenge-though I know I'm not the one to engineer it. You are, and I'm willing to risk everything to keep you alive until that vengeance is complete."
    "Alive like this?" Jubal challenged. "How much charisma does a cripple have?
    Enough to rally a vengeful army?"
    Saliman averted his eyes. "If you cannot regain your power," he admitted, "I'll find another to follow. But first I'll stay with you until you've reached your decision. If there's anyone who can inspire a force it's you-even crippled."
    "Then your advice is to let Stulwig do his work?"
    "There seems to be no option-unless you'd rather death."
    "There is one," Jubal grinned humorlessly, "though it's one I am loathe to take. I want you to seek out Balustrus, the metal-master. Tell him of our situation and ask... no, beg him to give us shelter."
    "Balustrus?" Saliman repeated the name as if it tasted bad. "I don't trust him. There're those who say he's mad."
    "He's served us well in the past-whatever else