still on the table. "Inside the city?"
"Yes, you've done local work before."
"Who is he?"
"A retired general, a real hard case from what I've heard. He was responsible for some big massacre during the war. Up in Eregoth, I believe. You're from those parts, aren't you?"
Caim considered the carpet between his feet as a jumble of old feelings knocked around in his chest. "What makes you say that?"
"Nothing much. You just have a northernish look about you."
Caim looked Mathias in the eye. "I told you before. I'm from the western territories."
But he wasn't. As far as he could piece together from his shambled memories, his family had hailed from Eregoth, one of several border states that had once been part of the Nimean Empire. But it was a past he didn't want known, for no better reason than it was personal.
"Oh yes." Mathias winked. "I forgot."
"Go on."
"Well, what makes me nervous is the timing. This job has to be done in two days."
"Impossible. You know I don't do rush jobs. Go find some desperate sailor deep in his cups and slip him a few silvers."
"Caim, this client isn't someone to disappoint, if you get my meaning. It must be done quickly, and with no mistakes. That's why I need you. You're the only one I can trust with a job like this on such short notice."
"I want to help you, Mathias, but there are too many things to consider. I spent weeks stalking Reinard before I took him down. I would need time to study the target, learn his habits and movements. After that I would have to do the same for his family and bodyguards."
Mathias bounced off the chaise and waddled to a rolltop desk against the wall. He held up a bundle of papers bound together with a red cord.
"I have all the particulars here: daily itinerary, personal security details, interior layouts, everything you'll need. He lives with a young daughter, but don't worry about her. The mother's dead. He doesn't keep any guards, just a broken-down manservant who sleeps like a log. It will be the easiest money you ever made."
Mathias held out the bundle, but Caim didn't take it.
"Who gathered all this?"
"A mutual friend. I vouch for its authenticity."
"It was Ral, wasn't it?"
"Why does it matter? Just take it."
"Damn it, Mat. He took the assignment and then dumped it back in your lap when a better job came up, didn't he? No wonder he was so chummy. No thanks. I'm passing."
Caim took two steps toward the door. Mathias reached out as if to grasp his sleeve, but drew his hand back before it made contact. Caim stopped as the bundle of papers was thrust in front of him.
"It's his loss!" Mathias said. "In and out, and a thousand soldats in your pocket."
"I don't clean up other people's messes."
Mathias cocked his head to the right. "My friend, that's precisely what you do. Please, don't make me beg. I'll throw in half of my end. That's another three hundred in gold. Then you can take a nice, long sabbatical."
Caim sighed as Mathias shook the papers at him. He couldn't do it, couldn't let down the man who had given him a chance as a young man on the run, a vagabond with no contacts or vouchers.
Caim took the papers. "All right. I'll do it. But hang on to your fee. You're getting old, Mathias. You should think about retiring soon."
Mathias gathered his robe around him as he returned to his chair. "I don't know what I'd do with myself if I ever retired."
"Buy a big villa somewhere nice. Live the life of a country gentleman."
Mathias laughed so hard he almost choked on his wine. "Can you see me as a country squire? I wouldn't last a month. Good fortune, my friend. I'll see you when the job is done."
Caim tucked the papers into his tunic. The bundle made a lump under his arm opposite the money pouch. He crossed to the door, but hesitated with his hand on the knob.
"By the way, what was the other job Ral took?"
"What?" Mathias twisted around to look at Caim over his shoulder. "Oh, something in Belastire. He'll be bow-legged and as dusty as a beggar by the time he returns."
"Belastire? It'll be cold on the Midland coast this time of year."
Mathias nodded. "Cold and bitter. The blackheart should feel right at home, eh?"
Caim thought back to the conversation on the stairs. Hadn't Ral mentioned a warmer clime? What game was he playing?
Caim