The City of Ravens by Richard Baker

course he would take steps to make sure that the prospective buyer wouldn’t resort to thievery.
    By the end of the day, Jack had a good idea of what he would have to do to get his hands on the Sarkonagael.
    He deliberately ignored his trepidation about the enterprise, assuming an attitude of supreme confidence. If he believed it possible, then it was surely possible, and nothing could prevent the success of any enterprise he cared to undertake. He headed toward the Cracked Tankard to celebrate his resolve and contemplate his coming reward.
    Briesa was not there (he recalled that the fifth day of the week was her night off), so Jack simply stood at the bar and ordered a hunk of roast beef and a plate of boiled potatoes to go with his dark ale. He was just about to dig in when a cloaked and hooded figure moved up beside him and clamped a strong hand on his arm.
    “Hello, Jack. Why don’t we find a quiet table where we can talk?”
    “Elana!” Jack exclaimed around a mouthful of potatoes. “What a pleasant surprise!”
    He seized his plate and his mug and hurried after the swordswoman, who was already threading her way toward a quiet alcove in the back of the room. It wasn’t Jack’s usual spot, but it was perhaps even harder to spy on if not quite as close to the room’s exits.
    As he sat down, Elana drew the privacy curtain shut and lowered the cowl of her hood. Her strong beauty was undiminished—the dark eyes and raven hair, the soft lips, the lean grace. Jack decided that he’d have that book even if he had to fight his way through a horde of guardian demons to get his hands on it. Elana simply watched him for a moment and then smiled sardonically, as if she could guess at what he was thinking and was simply amused by it.
    “Well, Jack Ravenwild, have you found me my book yet?”
    “Possibly,” he said. “I have a very good lead, dear Elana, although I confess I am exceedingly curious to discover why you want it.”
    “It’s good to want things that you can’t have,” she replied. “It keeps your ambition sharp. I see no need to take you into my confidence, Jack, not any deeper than you already are.”
    “Be that as it may, I still don’t know exactly what the Sarkonagael is—”
    “But you know where it is?” she asked, interrupting him.
    “I’ll know for certain tomorrow,” Jack said. “If all goes well, I’ll have the book in hand by tomorrow evening.”
    “What do you mean, if all goes well?”
    “The book is the property of a person who is likely to object to its removal from his collection.”
    “Who? Who has it?” Elana leaned forward, her eyes burning with intense interest.
    “Why, I can’t tell you that,” Jack said with a laugh. “I told you on the occasion of our first meeting—I work for half in advance, half upon completion of the work. As of this very moment, you have paid me one hundred gold crowns out of a promised five hundred, plus a very generous bonus arrangement should I recover the book for you. But if I let you know exactly where the book is, why, you might forget the balance of our contract—and the attendant bonus—in your enthusiasm to claim your property, and then where would I be?”
    “I don’t go back on my word once I give it,” Elana said in a hard voice.
    “I never said that you would, dear Elana. I merely observe that some of my employers have had difficulty in recalling the exact terms of a bargain once I delivered what they wanted.”
    Elana studied him for a long moment. “You don’t want me to beat you to the book. Very well, I can appreciate that, but I’m going to insist that you tell me something of its whereabouts, so that if something happens to you I won’t have spent my money in vain.”
    “Understandable,” Jack conceded. “In that case, I would ask for an additional one hundred and fifty crowns up front to make up the balance of my advance.”
    The swordswoman’s eyes flashed in anger. “Are you attempting to change the terms of