"You may remove your blindfold now, old one."

Even as he fumbled with the knot binding the strip of cloth over his eyes, Hakiem knew much of his surroundings. His nose told him that he was in one of Sanctuary's numerous brothels ... though exactly which one he was unsure of. At his advanced age he did not frequent the town's houses of ill-repute even though he could now easily have afforded them, and therefore he was unfamiliar with their individual nuances. The memories of his youth, however, still lingered strong enough for him to recognize the generic aroma of a dwelling where women sold sex for a living and the incense used in a vain attempt to disguise that profession.

More important than the room's location was its inhabitant, and Hakiem had good reason to recognize the voice that now instructed him. It was Jubal, once Sanctuary's crimelord ... now the underground leader of one of the armed factions that fought overtly and covertly for control of the city.

"It takes longer to reach you these days," Hakiem said with a casualness that bordered on insolence as he removed his blindfold.

Jubal was sprawled across a large, throne-like chair which Hakiem recognized from earlier days when the black ex-gladiator/slaver had openly operated out of his Downwind mansion. He wondered briefly what it had taken to retrieve that piece of furniture; the Stepsons had attacked the dwelling, driven the crimelord into hiding. Of course, the "ersatz" Stepsons had been there for a while, which might have made the recovery easier ... but that would have to be a story to be purloined on another day.

"These are dangerous times," Jubal said without a trace of apology. "One as observant as yourself must surely have noticed that, even though you have seldom relayed such information to me since your promotion."

Hakiem felt vaguely uncomfortable at this subtle accusation. He knew that he had long enjoyed favored status in Jubal's eyes, and at one time would have tentatively called him a friend. Now, however ...

"I have brought someone to meet you," he said, striving to shift the conversation away from himself. "Allow me to present ..."

"You would not have reached me if I hadn't known both that you were accompanied by someone and that person's identity," Jubal interrupted. "All that remains to be discovered is the motive for this visit. You may remove your blindfold as well. Lord Setmur. My earlier instruction was meant for both of you."

Hakiem's companion hastily removed his eye covering and stood squinting nervously.

"I ... I wasn't sure, and thought it better to err on the side of caution."

"A sentiment we both share," Jubal said with a smile. "Now tell me, why would one of you Beysib interlopers, much less the head of the Setmur clan of fishermen, seek an audience with a lowly Sanctuarite such as myself? I am neither noble nor fisherman, and it's been my impression that the Beysib are interested in little else in our town."

Hakiem felt a moment of sympathy for the little Beysib. Monkel Setmur was unaccustomed to dealing with those who specialized in words, much less those who habitually honed their tongues to razor-sharpness. It was clear that Jubal was in a bad mood and ready to vent his annoyance on his hapless visitor.

"Surely you can't hold Monkel here responsible for ..."

"Stay out of this, old one," Jubal snapped, stopping Hakiem's attempted defense with a suddenly pointing finger. "Speaking for the Beysib has become a habit with you which would be better broken. I wish to hear Lord Setmur's thoughts directly."

Sketching a bow so formal it reeked of sarcasm, Hakiem lapsed into silence. In truth, he himself was curious about the reason behind Monkel's visit. The Beysib had sought out Hakiem to arrange an audience with Jubal, but had steadfastly refused to reveal his motive.

The Beysib licked his lips nervously, then locked gazes with the ex-crimelord and straightened his back proudly.

"One hears that you have power in the streets of Sanctuary ... and that of the gang leaders, you are the only one whose favor can be bought."

Hakiem winced inwardly. If Monkel had intended to make an enemy of Jubal, he could not have picked a better opening gambit. The diplomat in him wanted to close his eyes and avoid the sight of Jubal's response to this insult, but the storyteller part of him required that he witness every detail and nuance.

To his surprise, Jubal did not immediately lash out in anger ... either verbally or physically.

"That is a common misconception," he said instead, nodding slowly. "In truth, I am simply more open about my interest in money than most. There are some causes or chores which even I and my forces will not touch ... regardless of the fee."

The head of the Setmur clan sagged slightly at this news. His gaze dropped, and as he replied, his voice was lacking the edge of confidence and arrogance it had held earlier.

"If by that you mean you wish to have nothing to do with my people, then I will waste no more of your time. It had been my intention to ask for your protection for the Beysib here in Sanctuary. In return, I was willing to pay handsomely ... either a flat fee or, if you wished, a percentage of my clan's revenues."

In his head, Hakiem damned Monkel for his secrecy. If only the little fisherman had asked his counsel before they were in Jubal's presence. On the surface the proposal seemed reasonable enough, except.... It was common knowledge in town that Jubal had long sought to obtain a foothold on Sanctuary's wharfs, but that to date he had been forestalled by the tight unity of the fishing community. Apparently this common knowledge had escaped the ears of Lord Setmur. Either that or he was unaware of the fragility of the union between his clan and the local fishermen. If the local captains discovered that he was offering Jubal an opening to drive a wedge into the fishing community in exchange for safety ...

"Your request is not unreasonable, and the price you offer is tempting," Jubal said thoughtfully, the earlier note of mockery in his voice gone now. "Unfortunately I am not in a position to enter into such a negotiation. Please accept my assurance that this is not because I hold a grudge against your people, but rather that I would be unable to fulfill my part of the bargain."

"But I thought ..." Monkel began, but Jubal waved him to silence.

"Let me explain the current situation to you, Lord Setmur, as I see it. The city is currently a battlefield. Many factions are fighting for control of the streets. Though it may seem that the Beysib are the target of this violence, they are more often than not innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire of the real war."

Jubal was leaning forward in his chair now, his eyes burning with intensity as he warmed to the subject.

"If I were to guarantee the safety of your people, it would mean openly committing my troops to your defense. Anyone who wanted to attack me would soon learn that all that was necessary would be to attack the Beysib. whereupon my forces would emerge from hiding to receive the brunt of the attack. In short, rather than relieving you of your enemies, your proposed deal would simply add my enemies to yours ... a situation less than favorable to the Beysib. As for me, I cannot afford to have my fighting strength eroded away by becoming predictable. My current activities are more covert in nature, playing each faction off against the others so that they will be weakened as I grow stronger. When I am confident that there is sufficient inequity of power to assure a victory, my forces will sweep the streets and restore order once again. At that time, we wi!l be able to discuss terms of coexistence. Until then, you are best to heed the advice of people such as Hakiem here in regards to which faction holds which neighborhood, and plan your movements accordingly. Such information is readily enough available that there is no need to pay my prices for it."