"You and your men may wait outside," Jack told the merchant imperiously. "My business should be concluded swiftly."

Embro Albrath-a stout man dressed in red, wearing a sea of golden chains around his neck and a gold ring on each finger-shook his head. "I shall accompany you, my lord," the merchant said. "I have no wish to pass an hour or two in this clammy cold while a friendly fire warms yon taproom."

Jack began to protest but stopped himself. Albrath's presence lent an illusion of credibility to the transaction. He might do well with the moneylender at his side.

"Very well, but I must ask you not to interrupt, no matter what transpires. My affairs are complicated and my partners unreliable."

"I am the very soul of discretion," the merchant promised.

Jack nodded in appreciation and let himself out of the coach. He glanced once more at the six soldiers standing by vigilantly, then ducked inside. Embro Albrath trailed him by a step. The merchant hesitated half a heartbeat when he noted the location in which Jack intended to do his business, but he smiled broadly beneath his mustache as if he approved of the informal setting and said nothing.

The common room of the Cracked Tankard was filled, which was not at all unusual given the time of day. Jack studied the room carefully and saw no sign of Zandria, nor any agents or thugs who might have been in her employ. He caught the barkeep's eye and flashed a couple of silver talents, learning that Zandria awaited in a private dining room in the back of the alehouse.

"Excellent," said Jack. "Let us proceed!"

He bounded up the narrow staircase leading to the private rooms on the upper floor, confident and energetic. Zandria would deal honorably with him; Red Wizards might be prideful and dangerous, but if word got out that a Red Wizard's word was no good, why, the entire organization would suffer immeasurably! In fact, it would be far wiser for the leaders among the Thayan magocracy to sternly advise their lesser brethren to scrupulously honor the letter and spirit of any agreement struck, so that all people everywhere would know that a Red Wizard's word was his bond.

"Zandria is arrogant, condescending, and overbearing," Jack remarked, "but her integrity must be beyond reproach!"

"I beg your pardon?" said Embro Albrath, huffing slightly as he hurried to keep up with Jack's nimble ascent.

"Oh, nothing," Jack replied. "Look, here we are." He stopped at the indicated door, paused to adjust his fine coat and tug at his cuffs, then boldly entered the room.

Zandria sat at one end of a long table set with a modest meal, the swordsman Brunn standing behind her. The warrior's left arm was in a sling, but his face showed nothing but deadly competence and readiness for action. Six heavy wooden coffers lined up against one wall caught Jack's eye immediately; he knew a coin chest when he saw one. The Red Wizard and her champion faced a small, dark figure in a blue waistcoat very similar to Jack's-no, exactly similar to Jack's-and as Jack entered, all three glanced in his direction. The wizard looked sharply at her dinner companion, back to Jack, and to her companion a third time.

"Now this I was not expecting," she muttered darkly.

The shadow Jack grinned widely and pointed at Jack, standing in the open door. "And there, Zandria, stands the villainous doppelganger who even now fondles your stone ring and your black dagger in his larcenous pockets. The temerity! The impudence! I beg you, rid me of this accursed copy for the betterment of all mankind!"

Jack stood stock-still in astonishment, gaping at the scene. Behind him Embro Albrath halted in confusion, as Jack now occupied the entirety of the doorway and moved neither forward nor aside to permit the merchant to follow. The gold-chained moneylender craned his head and leaned to the left to peer over Jack's shoulders.

"What is it? Is there something wrong?"

Jack-the real Jack-found his voice, at least in part. He squeaked, "You can speak!"

"I recommend that you place him under a spell of dominion or holding at once," the shadow Jack continued to Zandria. "He is a crafty and cowardly fellow and will flee instantly if you do not restrain him!"

"My lady Zandria," Jack said quickly, "You have been deceived by that miserable wretch who sits at your table. He is a simulacrum of me, possessed of a spirit so malicious and spiteful that every moment you spend in his presence invites unforeseen disaster!"

"I would, of course, say the very same thing if I were a murderous doppelganger attempting to reverse your rightful suspicions back upon the noble personage I had so insidiously copied," the shadow Jack purred. "It is the oldest trick in the book when dealing with an identical copy of oneself."

During this entire exchange Zandria's expression had darkened from amazement to smoldering anger. Her eyes blazed furiously, and her cheeks burned red. "I don't know which one of you speaks the truth, and I don't care," she said, slowly standing and reaching for the wand at her belt, "but one or the other of you had better produce my ring and my dagger this very instant, or there will be hell to pay."

"Alas, fair lady, I cannot. My impostor stole them from me, just as he stole my shape," the shadow said. "Kill the felon and examine his belongings; you'll find the items you desire, concluding our business, and I'll take the gold and refrain from troubling you in the future."

"That's my gold!" Jack cried indignantly. "Zandria, I must insist that you remove this viper from the premises at once! Our business cannot proceed until he is no more!"

"Better kill them both, Zandria," Brunn advised in his rumbling voice. "It's the only way to be sure, and you keep ring, dagger, and gold all."

The wizardess pointed her wand at the shadow Jack, then at Jack, and then finally at a point more or less in between from which she might menace either one. She glared at each. They were dressed in the exact same manner, both faces were split by the same insincere mouth and framed with the same stripe of thin beard. In the dim lamplight of the dining room, the shadow Jack was fully substantial and vital, grinning with excitement, alert and alive and animated so convincingly that Jack's own mother would have been hard pressed to tell the difference between the two.

"I think you have the right idea," Zandria said to Brunn. She raised the wand and pointed it at Jack.

"Wait!" cried Jack. "I can prove that I am the authentic Jack, and the other one a work of foulest sorcery!"

"The obvious ploy," the shadow Jack replied. "Do not fall for his desperate manner, dear lady. He seeks to play upon your tender feminine mercies."

"At this point, I don't care which of you is real and which is not," Zandria remarked. "Somebody has my ring. I mean to have it, and whichever of you produces it will be paid appropriately. After that, the two of you can throttle each other to death as far as I'm concerned."

"Do you have the ring the lady refers to?" asked a very nervous Embro Albrath from Jack's left shoulder. "If so, I advise compliance. Continued uncertainty can only result in poor decisions and hasty acts."

Jack scowled deeply. He wanted to work out an arrangement that would allow him to keep the ring; he saw all kinds of possibilities in the device. But as long as his nemesis stood before him, he would never be able to negotiate any kind of deal with Zandria. On the other hand, the six chests along the far wall presumably contained close to thirty thousand gold crowns… and that made the prospect of losing his prizes from Sarbreen much less odious. Better the gold at hand, he reasoned, than death at Zandria's hands.

"I came equipped to execute our arrangement in good faith," Jack said loudly. He reached into his pocket and produced the stone ring, then pulled the dagger from his boot, advancing to set them on the table. "Here are the items I recovered from the Guilder's Vault. If you please, I will inspect the coinage now."