Chapter 9

The room was still basking in the warm glow of oversized oil lamps as Borner contemplated his next move in what had proven to be a challenging game of mental chess. His goal had been cash and an escape route as a backup, but now he had something entirely unexpected dumped in his lap. He needed to know more. Although he felt the urge to snap up his gem and hide it against his breast again, he left it sitting on the table as a statement that he was still playing.

“Is this scrap of manuscript the only remnant that Kelvanir had?” Borner said. “Are there other archival references to the manuscript that have fragments of the original quoted?”

Timmaus, a Left Hand of the Thieves Guild, stretched his legs and stood up. “I believe the tea has grown cold. A stronger drink is in order, don’t you think?”

“Let us remain on the topic of Gemma,” Borner said, gauging his reply. “Pahtash would be most appropriate.”

“Indeed,” Timmaus said, ringing a small bell that Borner had not seen before. The door cracked open, and a head appeared in shadow. Timmaus gave his drink order after which the door closed. “Many who come for business here prefer to taste my largess for foreign flavors. You prove me wrong again with your embrace of the local distillery.”

The Left Hand had barely finished his thought when the door opened and Assassin One came in with a tray holding a crystal decanter and two glasses. Silently he placed the tray on the table and departed, closing the door behind him. Timmaus poured a generous amount.

“A toast,” Timmaus said.

“To profit,” Borner said, sticking to the appropriate words of the Guildhall.

“Is that profit or prophet?” Timmaus asked with his eyes boring in our Borner.

“You too?” Borner replied before taking a sip. “You must have had a longer conversation with Sojourner than I suspected. Perhaps he has obligations to repay to his cousins.”

“I will give you a little fact of the Thieves Guild at no cost, priest or prophet,” Timmaus said, ignoring the jab. “Our records go back centuries. Names, dates, transactions: they are all recorded and accessible to the Hands. Arimas was a member of the Guild. At least he was until he disappeared from this side of the Quanquo Mountains, the Westerlies as you Easterners call it. Only two centuries ago did we encounter his name again as we came around the southward tip of the mountain range to open new trade routes. Imagine our surprise when we met priests and their temples who were so clever, so worldly about peoples, countries, and trade, and who praised their prophet Arimas. As I said, I do not believe in coincidences.”

“Interesting facts,” Borner said. “I believe it establishes precedent for my full membership in the Guild.”

“Membership is an interesting proposition, one that could resolve several issues,” Timmaus said. “I don’t believe you though. You are not Guild material.”

“I am not, but that does not mean that we work at cross purposes,” Borner said. “We both want Urutu gone; you, for a return to previous profitability, and me, for other reasons.”

Timmaus was staring at him again. Borner was not certain himself where each man stood in this game of facts and fiction. There was no avenue he could conceive where he could cut his losses and run. Timmaus probably wanted the gem mine, as if one existed and Borner wanted unimpeded access to the royal archives. Neither was likely or achievable.