'Either way, we're still investing too much of our time maintaining a badalliance.'

'But until we know for sure, we can't tell if it's more to our advantage to keepor dissolve the agreement. Find me the answers and I'll reconsider. Until then,we'll maintain our current position.'

'As you will.'

Jubal smiled as Hakiem was led blindfolded into the room. It was not necessaryto wear the hawkmask for this interview, and he was glad, for he wanted anunobstructed view of his guest. Had he not been forewarned, he never would haverecognized the old storyteller. He waited until the blindfold had been removedbefore making his examination, walking slowly around the tale-spinner, whileHakiem stood blinking in the light. New clothes, hair and beard trimmed, thegauntness gone from his rib cage, and ... Yes! The fragrant odour of perfume!Hakiem had bathed!

'I have a job,' the storyteller broke the silence, almost embarrassed by hisnewfound wealth.

'I know,' Jubal said. 'In the new court, as advisor to the Beysa.'

'If you already knew that, why'd you drag me here all blindfolded,' Hakiemsnapped, returning momentarily to his old gutter temper.

'Because I also know you're thinking of quitting.' There were several heartbeatsof silence; then the storyteller heaved a sigh. 'So instead of my asking why I'mhere, I guess the question is "Why am I quitting?" Is that it?'

'You've put it a bit more bluntly than I would have, but you've captured theessence of the matter.'

Jubal sank into a chair and waved Hakiem to take the seat across from him. '...and help yourself to the wine. We've known each other too long for you to standon ceremony.'

'Ceremony!' the old tale-spinner snorted, accepting both chair and wine.'Perhaps that's what bothers me. Like you, I come from the streets and gutters.All the pomp and bother of court life bores me and, if nothing else, my time inSanctuary has taught me to be impatient with boredom.'

'Money pays for much patience, Hakiem,' Jubal observed. 'That I've learned fromthis town. Besides, I've had call to discover your beginnings are not as humbleas you would have others believe. Come now, the real reason for yourdiscontent.'

'And what business is it of yours? Since when did you concern yourself with mythoughts or livelihood?'

'Information is my business,' the ex-gladiator shot back. 'Especially when itconcerns the power structure of this town. You know that. You've sold me rumoursoften enough. And besides ...' Jubal's voice dropped suddenly, losing its edgeof anger and authority. '... Not long ago I considered changing careers. Twomen, an old friend and a penniless storyteller, ignored my temper and convincedme to examine my own motives. I haven't paid all my debts in life, but I don'tforget them either. Will you let me try to return the favour you paid me? Ofbeing both gadfly and confessor at a time you feel most alone?'

Hakiem stared into his wine for several moments. 'I love this town,' he saidfinally, 'as you do, though we love it differently and for different reasons.When the foreigners ask me my opinions of the townfolk, to appraise theirtrustworthiness or weakness, I feel I'm somehow betraying my friends. The goldis nice, but it leaves a slime on me that all the perfumed baths in the worldcannot remove.'

'They ask no more than I did when you served as my eyes and ears,' Jubalsuggested.

'It's not the same,' Hakiem insisted. 'You are a part of this town. like theBazaar of the Maze. Now I deal with strangers, and I'll not spy against my homefor mere gold.'

The ex-crimelord weighed this carefully, then poured them each another round ofwine.

'Listen to me, Hakiem,' he said at last. 'And think well on what I say. Your oldlife is gone. You know you could no more return to being an innocent storytellerthan I could go back to being a slave. Life moves forward, not backward. Just asI've had to adapt to my sudden advance in age, you must learn to live with yournew station in life. No. Hear me out.

'What you tell the invaders, they would learn whether you supplied it or not. Asa fellow gatherer of information, I swear to you this is true. There is alwaysmore than one way to learn any fact. If, however, you were not there, if theychose someone else to advise them, there would be a difference. Another would betoo swelled with his own importance, too in love with the sound of his own wordsto hear and see what was actually going on around him. That, storyteller, is aweakness you have never had.

'What goes on in that court, and the logic that the newcomers use to arrive attheir decisions, can be of utmost importance to the future of our town. Itworries me, but not so much as it would if anyone but yourself were monitoringtheir activities. Trading information we know for that which we do not is a fairenough bargain, especially when what we gain is so valuable.'

'All this talk comes very smoothly, slaver,' the talesmith scowled. 'PerhapsI've underestimated you again. You didn't bring me here to ask my reasons forquitting. It seems my thoughts were already known to you. What you really wantedwas to recruit me as your spy.'

'I suspected your reasons,' Jubal admitted. 'But spy is an ugly word. Still, thelife of a spy is dangerous and would command a high wage ... say, fifty in goldeach week? With bonuses for particularly valuable reports?'

'To betray the other powers of Sanctuary while feeding your strength.' Hakiemlaughed. 'And what if the Beysib ask about you? They'll grow suspicious if thereis a blind spot in my reporting.'

'Answer them as truthfully as you would when questioned about anyone else.' Theex-gladiator shrugged. 'I'm hiring you to gather information, not to protect meat your own expense. Admit everything, including that you have ways ofcontacting me, should the need arise. Tell the truth as often as you can. Itwill increase the odds of them believing you when you do find it necessary tolie.'

'I'll consider it,' the storyteller said. 'But I'll tell you the only reason I'deven think about such a pact is that you and your ghosts are one of the lasteffective 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. Whatmakes you think they're gone?'

'Don't toy with me, Hawkmaster,' Hakiem scolded, reaching for more wine, only tofind the bottle empty. 'You, who know even what's going on in my own head, mustknow that those clowns in armour who parade the streets these days are no moreStepsons than I'm a Hell Hound. Oh, they have the height and the hair of thosethey replaced, but they're poor substitutes for the mercenaries who long agofollowed Tempus off to the Northern Wars.'

'Of course.'Jubal smiled vaguely.

A small purse found its way from his tunic to his hand, and he pushed it acrossthe table to the storyteller.

'Here,' he instructed, 'use this to buy yourself a charm, a good one, againstpoison. Violence in the courts is quieter, but no less rough than that you knowfrom the Maze, and tasters are not always reliable.'

'What I really need is a guard against their snakes,' Hakiem grimaced, makingthe purse vanish with a wave of his hand. 'I'll never get used to having so manyreptiles about.'

'Check with me next week,' Jubal answered absently. 'I have people working on anantidote for that particular poison. That is, of course, assuming you decide toretain your position. A street storyteller has no need of such protection.'