He could hear the smile in her voice. ‘No harm at all, when there are Sagian Scribes running a town along Sagian principles.’
Innocence suffused his tone. ‘We are a benevolent people. I saw a chance for our principles to enhance the prospects of the people in a town where there was potential for commercial growth. Under our guidance, many there have become wealthy by the passage of travellers and trade through their town.’
‘Passage that is carefully controlled and documented, I am sure. With records available to the higher echelons of the Empire’s Scribes, should it be desired. And certain individuals among those record-takers who would report instead to someone other than the higher echelons of the Empire’s Scribes.’
He shrugged slightly. ‘There were, of course, fortunate benefits.’
‘So if the boy…’
‘The boy is a man now, in life if not in years. And he had better be, or he is of no use to us.’
‘Apologies, my lord. If the…’ She could not bring herself to say it, he noted. The remnants of bitterness may prove useful or may require handling. ‘If he does pass through there, he will find available to him records that could tell him of he whom he follows?’
‘Possibly.’
‘There will possibly be records?’
‘There will certainly be records. But he may or may not be able to gain access to them, or even know they exist. Our associates there do not know of him, or the significance of his prey. But that prey, remember, has his own network, greater than mine in numbers.’
‘That is to be expected. He is the Emperor’s Source of Information, after all.’
‘Greater numbers is rarely an advantage in the war of knowledge. To be overwhelmed with information is as paralysing as having too little. With spies, it is far better to have a shrewd person picking gems than a hundred shovelling piles of ore that take days or weeks to sift through. Fortunately, I have pickers while Taraloku-Bana has labourers.’
‘If I may say, my lord, I doubt it is left to fortune to govern your recruitment policy.’
‘That, you may say.’ He grunted. ‘So, the party we follow with interest. How long before they reach the town, if they hold to the same path?’
‘Already or soon, given where they were and how long it took my source to reach here.’
‘And your source is reliable?’
‘Even apprentice Scribes are meticulous. Even more so, in fact, in that they must impress to advance.’
‘Meticulous, but not known for being any more free with information than a corpse.’
‘Scribes are not celibate.’
‘You took him to your bed? I understood your bed companions were drawn from the gender banned from the Order of Scribes.’
‘Where information is concerned, my bed companions are governed by necessity. But no, I did not take him to my bed. Nor did I visit his. After several weeks on the road, merely the suggestion of such was enough to spark his tongue to life.’ She laughed suddenly – an unusual sound from her recently. ‘I mean he talked.’
It took him a moment to mask his amusement – something else that was rare in recent times. ‘And did he know who you asked about?’
‘He did not. I had to do a little sifting and prompting before I could pick your gem for you.’
‘You are learning. Make sure you continue.’
‘You require obedience and wit, my lord.’
‘Then leave me now, and persevere to give me more of both.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Three words only, but enough to let him hear that she had heard the compliment he had given her. Or, at least, as close to a compliment as he would give. The girl was growing into her role, and he could see it before him, which was good.
The one of whom she had spoken had grown into what was needed – now that one needed to rise to what he must do – and all this old man could do was sit and hope, events unfolding unseen, and unknown, until they were weeks in the past.
He hated that.
He felt the chill of the evening. He looked into the fire, and saw danger.
****
Brann thumped into a seat in the tavern, the weariness of travelling in his bones but the fire of enthusiasm in his head. Marlo was ensuring the horses were well-tended by the grooms at the livery yard across the road, and Hakon was ensuring that sufficient food and drink were going to be available from the innkeeper’s wife, while managing at the same time to eye the woman in the corner with the laces of her top just loose enough to show most of her cleavage; she in turn was eyeing Hakon’s purse.
‘So,’ Brann said, ‘once we have eaten, we can start trying to gather information.’
Gerens nodded across to the stairs leading to the bedrooms, where Hakon was disappearing with the loose-laced woman. ‘Looks like you may have to wait for the big man.’
Brann slapped the table in frustration. ‘Does he ever think with his head?’
Grakk laid a calming hand on his arm. ‘Fret not, young Brann. He means that it might be best to wait until Hakon has returned to plot our next move. It seems that Hakon is more keen even than you to start gathering information.’
Brann frowned. He was not convinced.
Cannick grinned. ‘Take it from me, Brann. If you want to know what is happening in a town, spend a week talking in markets and taverns or spend five minutes talking to a whore.’
Brann grunted. ‘Maybe you’re right. But I still don’t think that’s all he’ll be doing up there.’
Breta guffawed, startling a man behind her into almost choking on his ale. ‘There is truth in that. Better give him ten minutes, then.’
It was almost exactly ten minutes when Hakon rejoined them, oblivious to the amused looks passing between his companions.
‘You took your time,’ Sophaya said, as Brann and the recently returned Marlo stared at the floor, shoulders shaking.
Hakon’s big shoulders shrugged. ‘We had a lot to talk about.’
It was too much. Brann’s spluttered laughter was replicated around the table. Grakk just smiled gently and slid along on the bench to leave room for the perplexed Northern boy. ‘Ignore them, they are releasing accumulated stress at your – if I can describe it as such? – method of releasing accumulated stress.’ The hilarity only redoubled at that, and Grakk raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Sit, young hearty fellow. The food will arrive soon, and once these buffoons have composed themselves, you can tell us what you have learnt.’
Hakon cast his confusion aside as an irrelevance in the face of impending food, and lowered himself beside Grakk. Brann wheezed as his laughter subsided, his face and his ribs aching alike. The learned tribesman was, as ever, correct – he had not laughed as helplessly for as long as he could remember, and he felt better for it.
The appearance of the food and another round of ale forced them to compose