Rise of a Merchant Prince
Rise of a Merchant Prince
Raymond E. Feist
The second book in the bestselling Serpentwar series.It’s hard to build a business empire in the midst of magic and murder…After a harrowing brush with the armies of the Emerald Queen Roo Avery is now free to choose his own destiny. His ambition is to become one of the most powerful merchants in Midkemia.But nothing can prepare him for the dangers of the new life he has chosen, where the repayment of a debt can be as deadly as a knife in the shadows and betrayal is always close at hand.But the war with the Emerald Queen is far from over and the inevitable confrontation will pose the biggest threat yet to Roo's newfound wealth and power.
RAYMOND E. FEIST
Rise of a Merchant Prince
Book Two of the Serpentwar Saga
Copyright (#ulink_df5df48c-c5ad-581f-81d0-979c6841411d)
HarperVoyager An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 1995
Copyright © Raymond E. Feist 1995
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780006497011
Ebook Edition © AUGUST 2012 ISBN: 9780007370214
Version: 2018-08-23
This book is dedicated toDiane and David Clark,good friends
Table of Contents
Cover (#u58f16bcc-99ea-5172-9241-a06bb823395a)
Title Page (#uaa042fa6-9ef1-52e5-af32-8844d297d566)
Copyright (#u1b0a88d7-bb03-5a9d-b0a8-3c7611869a74)
Dedication (#ulink_370ef0a4-7775-5a81-82ac-3240f102364c)
Map (#u470069c0-1cf4-57bf-bb20-4526ff4ccaf2)
Cast of Characters (#u2ae26886-441f-54db-b27f-f5ef430d2538)
Book Two: Roo’s Tale (#ued2f87fd-3472-5eea-9a86-213390634774)
Prologue: Demonia (#uc11d3abf-d0b6-5623-a08e-9d978f22a6bf)
Chapter One: Return (#ue6cfc682-c7b8-5327-a8b6-7051c617312f)
Chapter Two: Homecoming (#u95a8aaed-971a-5d7a-89f5-392b17a7edc1)
Chapter Three: Bargains (#uc96f3971-01d3-5c24-b181-dfcdb7ce2607)
Chapter Four: Setback (#uf190c46f-6d52-517a-8f47-6e5b84447758)
Chapter Five: Newcomer (#u867c5dc3-6648-5458-a875-2432c9a61974)
Chapter Six: Barret’s (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven: Opportunity (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight: Players (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine: Growth (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten: Plans (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven: Travel (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve: Expansion (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen: Gamble (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen: Surprise (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen: Consolidation (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen: Friends (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen: Disasters (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen: Discovery (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen: Revelations (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty: Discovery (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue: Rescue (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)
Continue the Adventure … (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
By the Same Author (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
(#ulink_c451e9cf-995e-5a42-a855-2309eef16bf9)
Cast of Characters (#ulink_ff48fdfa-3aea-5423-bfd2-067688f9c3f9)
Aglaranna – Elf Queen in Elvandar, wife of Tomas, mother of Calin and Calis
Alfred – corporal from Darkmoor
Avery, Abigail – daughter of Roo and Karli
Avery, Duncan – cousin of Roo
Avery, Helmut – son of Roo and Karli
Avery, Rupert ‘Roo’ – young merchant of Krondor, son of Tom Avery
Avery, Tom – teamster, Roo’s father
Aziz – sergeant at Shamata
Betsy – serving girl at the Inn of the Seven Flowers
Boldar Blood – mercenary hired by Miranda in the Hall of Worlds
Borric – King of the Isles, twin brother of Prince Erland, brother of Prince Nicholas, father of Prince Patrick
Calin – elf heir to the throne of Elvandar, half brother of Calis, son of Aglaranna and King Aidan
Calis – ‘The Eagle of Krondor,’ special agent of the Prince of Krondor, Duke of the Court, son of Aglaranna and Tomas, half brother of Calin
Carline – Dowager Duchess of Salador, aunt of the King
Chalmes – ruling magician at Stardock
Crowley, Brandon – trader at Barret’s Coffee House
De Loungville, Robert ‘Bobby’ – sergeant major of Calis’s crimson Eagles
De Savona, Luis – former soldier, assistant to Roo
Dunstan, Brian – the Sagacious Man, leader of the Mockers, used to be known as Lysle Rigger
Ellien – town girl in Ravensburg
Erland – brother of the King and Prince Nicholas, uncle of Prince Patrick
Esterbrook, Jacob – wealthy merchant of Krondor, father of Sylvia
Esterbrook, Sylvia – Jacob’s daughter
Fadawah – general leading the Emerald Queen’s army
Freida – Erik’s mother
Galain – elf in Elvandar
Gamina – adopted daughter of Pug, sister of William, wife of James, mother of Arutha
Gapi – general in the Emerald Queen’s army
Gaston – wagon dealer in Ravensburg
Gordon – corporal at Krondor
Graves, Katherine ‘Kitty’ – girl thief in Krondor
Greylock, Owen – captain in the Prince’s service
Grindle, Helmut – merchant, father of Karli, partner of Roo
Grindle, Karli – daughter of Helmut, later wife of Roo Avery, mother of Abigail and Helmut
Gunther – Nathan’s apprentice
Gwen – town girl in Ravensburg
Hoen, John – manager of Barret’s
Hume, Stanley – trader at Barret’s
Jacoby, Frederick – founder of Jacoby and Sons, traders
Jacoby, Helen – wife of Randolph
Jacoby, Randolph – son of Frederick, brother of Timothy, husband of Helen
Jacoby, Timothy – son of Frederick, brother of Randolph
James – Duke of Krondor, father of Arutha, grandfather of James and Dash
Jameson, Arutha – Lord Vencar, Baron of the Prince’s Court, son of Duke James
Jameson, Dashel ‘Dash’ – younger son of Arutha, grandson of James
Jameson, James ‘Jimmy’ – elder son of Arutha, grandson of James
Jamila – madam at the White Wing
Jason – waiter at Barret’s, later accountant for Avery and Son and the Bitter Sea Company
Jeffrey – wagon driver for Jacoby and Sons
Kalied – ruling magician at Stardock
Kurt – bullying waiter at Barret’s
Lender, Sebastian – litigator/solicitor at Barret’s Coffee House
McKeller – head waiter at Barret’s
Milo – innkeeper in Ravensburg, father of Rosalyn
Miranda – magician and ally of Calis and Pug
Nakor the Isalani – gambler, magic user, friend of Calis
Patrick – Prince of Krondor, son of Prince Erland, nephew of the King and Prince Nicholas
Pug – magician, Duke of Stardock, cousin of the King, father of Gamina
Rivers, Alistair – innkeeper of the Happy Jumper
Rosalyn – Milo’s daughter, wife of Rudolph, mother of Gerd
Rudolph – baker in Ravensburg
Shati, Jadow – corporal in Calis’s company
Tannerson, Sam – thief in Krondor
Tomas – Warleader of Elvandar, husband of Aglaranna, father of Calis
Vinci, John – merchant in Sarth
von Darkmoor, Erik – soldier in Calis’s Crimson Eagles
von Darkmoor, Manfred – Baron of Darkmoor, half brother of Erik
von Darkmoor, Mathilda – Baroness of Darkmoor, mother of Manfred
William-Knight-Marshal of Krondor, Pug’s son, Gamina’s adopted brother, uncle of Jimmy and Dash
Book Two Roo’s Tale (#ulink_d33c89ac-d115-51f4-9e98-3fc867017932)
Wealth, howsoever got, in England makes
Lords of mechanics, gentlemen of rakes;
Antiquity and birth are needless here;
‘Tis Impudence and money makes a peer.
– Daniel Defoe
The True-born Englishman, Pt. 1
• Prologue • Demonia (#ulink_8c4fe66f-7900-5e26-bf83-032836b1b99c)
The soul screamed.
The demon turned, and as its gaping maw was set in a permanent grin, the only hint of its increased delight was a slight widening of its eyes, black orbs resembling those of a shark: flat and lifeless. It studied the jar it held for a moment, its only possession.
This soul was especially active and the demon had been fortunate to find it and keep it. Placing the jar under its chin, the demon closed its eyes and felt the energy flow into it from the jar. The creature’s emotional makeup knew nothing that could be called happiness, only lessened states of fear or anger, but the surge of feeling within was as close to happiness as the creature could know. Each time the soul within the jar struggled, the energy created filled the little demon’s mind with new ideas.
As if suddenly concerned its toy would be taken from it by one of its more powerful brethren, the demon glanced around. The hall was one of many in the grand palace of Cibul, capital of the now destroyed Saaur race.
Then the demon remembered: destroyed save those who had fled through a magic gate. It felt its anger return, and then the emotion quickly fled. As a minor demon, it was not intelligent, only cunning, and it didn’t fully understand why the escape of a small part of this nearly obliterated race was important. But it was, for the Demon Lords were even now gathered upon the plains to the east of the city of Cibul, inspecting the site of the now closed rift through which the Saaur survivors had fled.
The Lords of the Fifth Circle had attempted once to open the portal, managing to keep it open long enough to slip a tiny demon through, before it collapsed upon itself, sealing the rift between the two realms and stranding the tiny demon on the other side of the rift. There was much consultation among the greater demons on reopening that rift and gaining entrance to this new realm.
The demon wandered the halls, oblivious to the ravages around it. Tapestries that had taken a generation to weave were torn from the walls and trodden upon, soiled by dirt and blood. The demon cracked a Saaur rib bone underfoot and absently kicked it aside. At last it came to its secret room, the one it had claimed as its own while the Host of the Fifth Circle resided on this cold planet. Leaving the demon realm was a terrible experience, thought the young demon. This had been the demon’s first journey to this realm, and it wasn’t sure it cared much for the pain of transition.
The feasting had been glorious; never had it known such a wealth of food, even though it was limited to scraps from the feasting pits, thrown out by the mightiest of the host as they fed. But scraps or not, the demon had devoured much and had grown. And that was creating problems for itself.
It sat down, attempting to find a comfortable position as its body changed. The feasting had continued for nearly a year and many of the lesser demons had grown. This particular demon had grown faster than most, though it still hadn’t matured enough to have developed significant intelligence or a sexual identity.
Looking down at the plaything, the demon laughed, a silent gaping of jaws and sucking of wind. The mortal eye could not behold the thing within the jar. The demon, who didn’t have a name yet, had been most fortunate to snare this particular soul. A great demon captain, almost a lord, had fallen to mighty magic even as the great Tugor had crushed and eaten the leader of the Saaur. One of the Saaur magic users, a powerful one, had destroyed the demon captain, but at the cost of his own life. The little demon might not be intelligent, but it was quick, and without hesitation it had seized the fleeing soul force of the dead magic user.
The demon inspected the device again, the soul jar, and poked at it. The magic soul within rewarded it by thrashing, if something without a body could be said to thrash.
The demon shifted its weight. It knew it was getting more powerful, but the nearly nonstop feeding was at an end. The last of the Saaur were dead and devoured, and now the demon host was depending on lesser animals for food, animals with negligent soul force. There were some client races, who would breed children, some of which would go to the feasting pits, but that meant slow growth in this realm. Its body would continue to mature, but not significantly until the next realm had been entered.
Cold, the demon thought as it glanced around the large room, ignorant of its original use: a bedroom for one of the Saaur leader’s many wives. The native realm was one of wild energies and pulsing heat, where the demons of the Fifth Circle grew like wild things, devouring one another, until strong enough to escape and serve the Demon King and his lords and captains. This demon had but vague recollections of its own beginning, remembering only anger and fear, and an occasional moment of pleasure as it devoured something.
The demon settled down on the floor. With a changing body, it couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position. Its back itched, and with certainty it knew wings would grow there soon, tiny at first, then growing larger as it rose in power. The demon was clever enough to know it would have to fight to gain rank, so it had better rest. It had been lucky so far, as the critical periods in its growth had come during the war on this world, and most of the host were too occupied with devouring the inhabitants of this world to contest in their own ranks.
Others were now fighting, and the losers would add strength to the winners as they were devoured; any demon without enough rank was a fair target for another save when a lord or captain demanded obedience. It was simply the way of this race, and each who fell was considered unworthy of a second thought. This demon considered that there must be a better way to gain more strength than an open challenge and outright attack. But it couldn’t think of what it could be.
Glancing around what had once been a regal and richly appointed dwelling, the demon closed its eyes, but not before glancing one last time at the soul jar. Feeding might cease awhile, and with it physical growth, but it had learned during the war that physical growth, while impressive, wasn’t as important as knowing things. The contents of the soul jar were a being rich in knowledge, and this little demon meant to have that knowledge. The demon placed the jar against its forehead and mentally prodded the soul, causing more thrashing, and the energy that resulted flowed into the demon. Powerful, like a drug to a mortal, the sensation was among the most glorious known to demonkind. The demon felt something new in its experience: satisfaction. Soon it would be smarter, know things, and then it would be able to use more than animal cunning to gain rank and a position of power.
And when the Demon Lords finally discovered a way to open fully the gate that had been sealed behind the fleeing Saaur, then the Demon Host of the Fifth Circle would follow and then there would be ample opportunity to feed upon the Saaur and upon whatever other intelligent, soul-bearing creatures lived upon the world of Midkemia.
• Chapter One • Return (#ulink_69330571-2b5c-5e8c-b7a8-adc0ef65fe03)
A ship swept into the harbor.
Black and dangerous, it moved like a dark hunter bearing down on its prey. Three tall masts, majestic under full sail, propelled the warship into the harbor of a great city as other ships gave way. Although she looked like a great pirate vessel from the distant Sunset Islands, her foremast flew the Royal Ensign, and all who saw the ship knew that the King’s brother was returning home.
High aloft that ship, a young man worked quickly, reefing the mizzen topsail. Roo paused a moment as he tied the final reef point, and looked across the harbor at the city of Krondor.
The Prince’s city spread out along the docks, rose on hills to the south, and spread out of sight to the north. The panorama was impressive as the ship sped in from the sea. The young man – eighteen years of age at the next Midsummer’s festival – had thought on numerous occasions over the past year and more that he would never see the city again. Yet here he was, finishing up his watch atop the mizzen mast of the Freeport Ranger, a ship under the command of Admiral Nicholas, brother to the King of the Kingdom of the Isles and uncle to the Prince of Krondor.
Krondor was the second most important city in the Kingdom of the Isles, the capital of the Western Realm and seat of power for the Prince of Krondor, heir to the throne of the Isles. Roo could see the multitude of small buildings scattered across the hills surrounding the harbor, the vista dominated by the Prince’s palace, which sat atop a steep hill hard against the water. The majesty of the palace was in stark contrast to the rude buildings that lined the waterfront close by, warehouses and chandlers’ shops, sail- and rope-makers, carpenters and sailor’s inns. Second only to the Poor Quarter as a haven for thugs and thieves, the waterfront was thrown by the proximity of the palace into an even more seedy aspect.
Yet Roo was pleased to see Krondor, for now he was a free man. He glanced one last time at his work, ensuring that the sail was properly reefed, and moved quickly along the footrope with a sure balance learned while crossing treacherous seas for nearly two years.
Roo considered the oddity of facing his third spring in a row without a winter. The topsy-turvy seasons of the land on the other side of the world had contrived to provide Roo and his boyhood friend, Erik, with such a situation, and Roo found the notion both amusing and oddly disquieting.
He shinnied down a sheet, reaching the top of the mizzenmast ratline. Roo didn’t particularly like top work, but as one of the smaller and more nimble men in the crew, he was often told to go aloft and unfurl or reef the royals and topgallants. He scampered down the ratline and landed lightly on the deck.
Erik von Darkmoor, Roo’s only friend as a boy, finished his task of tying off a yard brace to a cleat, then hurried to the rail as they sped past other ships in the harbor. A full two heads taller and twice the bulk of his friend, Erik made with Roo as unlikely a pair as any two boys could have been. While Erik was stronger than any boy in their hometown of Ravensburg, Roo was among the smallest. While Erik would never be called handsome, he wore an open and friendly expression that others found likable; Roo had no illusions about his own appearance. He was homely by any standards, with a pinched face, eyes that were narrowed and darting around as if constantly looking for threats, and a nearly permanent expression that could only be called furtive. But on those rare occasions when he smiled, or laughed, a warmth was revealed that made him far from unattractive. It was that roguish humor and willingness to brave trouble that had attracted Erik to Roo when they were children.
Erik pointed and Roo nodded at those ships moving away from their own as the Freeport Ranger was given right of way to the royal docks below the palace. One of the older sailors laughed and Roo turned to ask, ‘What?’
‘Prince Nicky’s going to irritate the Harbormaster again.’ Erik, his hair almost bleached white by the sun, looked at the sailor, who had blue eyes that stood out in stark contrast to his sunburned face. ‘What do you mean?’
The sailor pointed. ‘There’s the Harbormaster’s launch.’ Roo looked to where the man pointed. ‘He’s not slowing to pick up a pilot!’
The sailor laughed. ‘The Admiral is his teacher’s student. Old Admiral Trask used to do the same thing, but he’d at least allow the pilot up on deck so he could personally irritate him by refusing to take a tow into the dock. Admiral Nicky’s the King’s brother, so he doesn’t even bother with that formality.’
Roo and Erik glanced upward and saw that old sailors were standing by waiting to reef in the last sails on the Admiral’s command. Roo then looked to the poop deck and saw Nicholas, formerly Prince of Krondor and presently Admiral of the King’s Fleet in the West, give the signal. Instantly the old hands pulled up the heavy canvas and tied off. Within seconds Roo and the others on the deck could feel the ship’s speed begin to fall off as they neared the royal docks located below the royal palace of the Prince.
The Ranger’s motion continued to drop off, but to Roo it felt as if they were still moving into the docks too fast. The old sailor spoke as if reading his mind. ‘We’re pushing a lot of water into the quay, and that’ll push back as we come alongside the docks, slowing us down to almost a full stop, though she’ll make the cleats groan a bit.’ He made ready to throw a line to those waiting on the dock ahead. ‘Lend a hand!’
Roo and Erik each grabbed another line and waited for the command. When Nicholas shouted, ‘Cast away!’ Roo threw to a man on the dockside, who caught the rope expertly and quickly made it fast to a large iron cleat. As the old sailor said, when the line went taut the iron cleats seemed to groan as the wooden docks were flexed, but the bow wake returned from the stone quay and the huge ship seemed to settle in with a single rocking motion, as if it sighed in relief that it was good to be home.
Erik turned to Roo. ‘Wonder what the Harbormaster will say to the Admiral.’
Roo glanced aft as the Admiral made his way to the main deck, and considered the question. The first time Roo had seen the man had been at Erik’s and Roo’s trial for the murder of Erik’s half brother, Stefan. The second time he had seen him had been when the survivors of the mercenary company to which Roo and Erik belonged had been rescued from a fishing smack outside the harbor of the city of Maharta. Having served under the Admiral on the voyage homeward, Roo’s opinion was ‘He’ll probably say nothing, go home, and get drunk.’
Erik laughed. He also knew that Nicholas was a man of calm authority, who could embarrass a subordinate to the point of tears with a stare and no words spoken, a trait he shared with Calis, the Captain of Roo and Erik’s company, the Crimson Eagles.
Of the original company, numbering in the hundreds, fewer than fifty men survived – the six who had fled with Calis and some stragglers who had found their way to the City of the Serpent River before the Freeport Ranger had departed for Krondor. Nicholas’s other ship, Trenchard’s Revenge, had remained in the harbor at the City of the Serpent River for an extra month, in case more men from Calis’s troop found their way there. Any who were not there when she weighed anchor would be considered to be dead.
The gangplank was run out, and Roo and Erik watched as Nicholas and Calis were the first to disembark. On the dock waited Patrick, Prince of Krondor, his uncle Prince Erland – nephew and brother respectively to Nicholas – and other members of the royal court of Krondor.
Erik said, ‘Not much of a show, is it?’
Roo could only nod. A lot of men had died to bring back the information Nicholas carried to his nephew, the Prince. And from what Roo knew, it was scant information at best. He turned his attention to the royal family.
Nicholas, formerly Prince of Krondor until his nephew had come from the capital of the Kingdom of the Isles to assume the office, looked nothing like his brother. Erland’s hair was mostly grey, but there was enough red remaining to reveal its original hue. Nicholas, likewise going grey, was a man of dark hair and intense features. Patrick, the new Prince of Krondor, was somewhere between his two uncles in appearance, darker of skin than both, but his hair was a middle brown in color. He seemed to have something of Erland’s powerful build and Nicholas’s intensity.
‘No,’ said Roo, ‘you’re right; not much by way of ceremony.’
Erik nodded. ‘Then again, by now they all know there’s not much glory in any of this. The Prince and his uncle are probably both anxious to hear what news Calis and Nicholas have.’
Roo sighed agreement. ‘None of it good. It’s all bloody business and it’s going to get worse.’
A friendly slap to the back caused both Roo and Erik to turn. Robert de Loungville stood behind the two young men, grinning in a way that up until recently made both men expect the worst, but this time they knew he was merely showing the more affable side of his nature. He kept his receding hair cropped close to his skull, and he needed a shave. ‘Where to, lads?’
Roo jingled a purse of gold tucked into his tunic. ‘I think a good glass of ale, the tender touch of a bad woman, and then I’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.’
Erik shrugged. ‘I’ve been thinking, and I want to take up your offer, Sergeant.’
‘Good,’ said de Loungville, sergeant of Calis’s company. He had offered Erik a place in the army, but in a special command being formed by Calis, Prince Nicholas’s mysterious and not-quite-human ally. ‘Come by Lord James’s office at midday tomorrow. I’ll leave word at the palace gate you’re to be admitted.’
Roo studied the men on the dock. ‘Our Prince is an impressive-looking man.’
Erik said, ‘I know what you mean. He and his father both look the sort who have been in some serious places.’
De Loungville said, ‘Never let their rank fool you, lads. Erland and our King, and their sons after them, spent their time along the northern borders fighting goblins and the Brotherhood of the Dark Path.’ He used the common name for the moredhel, the dark elves who lived on the far side of the mountains known as the Teeth of the World. ‘I heard that the King got into some serious business down in Kesh once, a run-in with slavers or some such thing. Whatever it was, he came out of it with a good opinion of the common man, for a king.
‘We haven’t had a court-bred king since King Rodric, before old King Lyam took the throne, and that was before I was born. These are tough men who’ve spent some time soldiering, and it’ll take a few more generations before any in this family becomes soft. The Captain will see to that.’ There was something in his voice that hinted at strong emotions; Roo glanced at the sergeant and tried to glean what it was, but de Loungville’s expression had returned to a broad grin.
‘What are you thinking?’ asked Erik of Roo, his best friend since childhood.
Roo said, ‘Just how funny families can be.’ He pointed to the group on the dock, listening carefully to Nicholas.
Erik said, ‘Notice our Captain.’
Roo nodded. He knew Erik meant Calis. The elflike man stood off to one side, with just enough distance between himself and the others to be apart, yet close enough to answer questions when asked.
Robert de Loungville said, ‘He’s been my friend for twenty years. He found me serving with Daniel Troville, Lord Highcastle, and dragged me away from the border wars to go to the strangest places a man can imagine. I’ve been with him longer than any man in his company, eaten cold rations with him, slept beside him, watched men die in his arms, even had him carry me for two days after the fall of Hamsa, but I can’t say I know the man.’
Erik asked, ‘Is it true he’s part elf?’
De Loungville rubbed his chin. ‘I can’t say I know the truth of that. He told me his father came from Crydee originally; a kitchen boy, he claims. He doesn’t talk about his past much. Mostly he plans for the future, and takes barracks rats like you two and turns them into soldiers. But it’s worthwhile. I wasn’t much more than a barracks rat myself when he found me. Worked up from that to my grand station today.’ He said the last with an even broader grin, as if he were nothing more than a common sergeant and that remark a joke, but both Erik and Roo had been told he carried high court rank in addition to his military rank. ‘So I never asked too many personal questions. He’s very much what you might call a “right now” sort of fellow.’ De Loungville’s voice lowered, as if Calis might somehow overhear from down on the dock, and his expression turned serious. ‘He does have those pointy ears. Still, I never heard of any such being – half-man, half-elf – yet he can do things no other man I know can do.’ He grinned again as he said, ‘But he’s saved all our hides more times than I can count, so who’s to care what his line is? Your station at birth means nothing. A man can’t change that. What’s important is how you live.’ He slapped both young men on the shoulder. ‘You were worthless dogmeat when I found you, fit only for starving crows, but look at you now!’
Erik and Roo exchanged looks, then laughed. Both were wearing the same clothing they had worn when escaping the destruction of the city of Maharta, oft patched, stained beyond cleaning, reducing both men to the appearance of common street thugs.
Roo said, ‘We’re two men in need of some fresh clothing. Save Erik’s boots, we look the part of ragpickers.’
Erik glanced down and said, ‘And these need mending.’ The boots were all he had left from the Baron of Darkmoor’s legacy, a grudging admission to Erik of his paternity, along with not denying Erik the right to call himself ‘von Dark-moor.’ The boots were riding boots, but Erik had walked enough to wear the heels down to nearly nothing, and the leather was weather-beaten and cracked.
Sho Pi, an Isalani from the Empire of Great Kesh, came up on deck from below, carrying his own travel bag. Behind him came Nakor, also an Isalani, and the man Sho Pi had decided was destined to be his ‘master.’ He appeared old, but moved with a spry step and quickness that both Erik and Roo knew well. He had instructed them in hand-to-hand combat, and Roo and Erik knew that the odd little man, as well as Sho Pi, was as dangerous unarmed as most men were with weapons. Roo was convinced he had never seen Nakor move as fast as possible, and wasn’t sure he would welcome such a demonstration. Roo was a gifted student of the open-handed school of fighting practiced in the Isalani provinces of Kesh, only surpassed by Sho Pi and Nakor in Calis’s company, but he knew either man could easily defeat him with a quick killing blow.
‘I am not going to have you trailing around behind me, boy!’ insisted the bandy-legged Nakor, yelling over his shoulder. ‘I haven’t been to a city in nearly twenty years that wasn’t being burned to the ground or overrun by soldiers or otherwise unpleasant in some fashion, and I intend to enjoy myself awhile. Then I’m going back to Sorcerer’s Isle.’
Sho Pi, a head taller than Nakor, and in possession of a full head of dark hair, otherwise looked like a much younger version of the wiry little man. He said, ‘Whatever you say, Master.’
‘Don’t call me master,’ insisted Nakor, putting his own travel bag over his shoulder. Moving to the rail he said, ‘Erik, Roo! Where are you going?’
‘To get a drink, a whore, and new clothing, in that order,’ said Roo.
‘Then I’m going home to see my mother and friends,’ said Erik.
‘What about you?’ asked Roo.
‘I’m going with you,’ Nakor said, hoisting his bag, ‘until the “going home” part. Then I shall hire a boat to take me to Sorcerer’s Isle.’ He looked straight down the gangway, ignoring the younger countryman, a step behind.
Erik glanced at Sho Pi and said, ‘We’ve got to go below and get our kits. Then we’ll join you on the dock.’
Roo was a step ahead of his friend as they hurried below, bade farewell to the sailors who had become friends, and found Jadow Shati, another of their company of ‘desperate men,’ just finishing gathering up his few possessions.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Roo as he quickly grabbed his small kit.
‘A drink, I’m thinking.’
‘Join us,’ said Erik.
‘I think I will, as soon as I tell Mr Robert de Loungville, the little swine, that I’m taking up his offer of becoming his corporal.’
Erik blinked. ‘Corporal? He offered me the position.’
Before the two men could begin arguing, Roo said, ‘From what he said, he’s going to need more than one.’
The two large men exchanged glances, then both laughed. Jadow’s face settled into a grin, teeth dramatically white against his ebony skin, an expression so happy that it always made Roo smile in response. Like the other desperate men, Jadow had been a killer and lifelong criminal, but in the brotherhood of Calis’s company he had found men for whom he was willing to die and who would die for him.
Roo hated to admit it, as one who flattered himself for being completely selfish, but he loved the survivors of that company almost as much as he loved Erik. Rough men all, dangerous by any standards, they had passed through a bloody trial together, and each knew he could depend on the others.
Roo thought about those lost on the journey: Biggo, the large, laughing thug with a strange streak of piety running through him; Jerome Handy, a giant of a man with a violent temper who could tell a tale like an actor and make shadow play on the wall that came alive; Billy Goodwin, an otherwise gentle youth with a violent temper, who had been cut down in a pointless accident before ever understanding anything of life; and Luis de Savona, the Rodezian cutthroat whose wit was as sharp as his dagger, who knew both court intrigue and dark-alley brawls; a man of temper and strange loyalties. Roo tied his bundle and turned to see both Erik and Jadow watching him.
‘What is it?’
‘You were lost there a moment,’ said Erik.
‘I was thinking about Biggo and the others …’
Erik nodded. ‘I understand.’
‘Maybe some of them will show up when Trenchard’s Revenge gets here,’ ventured Jadow.
Roo said, ‘That would be fine.’ Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he added, ‘But Billy and Biggo won’t.’
Erik nodded. He and Roo had watched Biggo die in Maharta, and Erik had seen Billy fall from his horse, cracking his head on a rock.
The three men were silent as they climbed back on deck and hurried down the gangway to find Robert de Loungville chatting with Nakor and Sho Pi.
‘Hey now, you vile runt of a man!’ said Jadow without ceremony to the man who for nearly three years had controlled his life.
De Loungville turned. ‘Who are you talking to like that, you Valeman scum!’
‘You, Bobby de Loungville, Sergeant sir!’ snapped back Jadow, but Erik could easily see the mocking humor in both men’s expressions. Battle had made him very aware of his companions’ every mood, and he knew they were having fun with each other. ‘And who are you calling “scum"? We men of the Vale are the best fighting men in the world, don’t you know, and we are usually wiping our boots to clean them of something that resembles you.’ He sniffed loudly, bending forward as if to make sure de Loungville was the source of the offending odor. ‘Yes, very much like you.’
De Loungville grabbed one of Jadow’s cheeks and pinched it as a mother does a child’s, saying, ‘You’re so lovely I should kiss you.’ Playfully slapping him on the face, he said, ‘But not today.’
To the group, de Loungville said, ‘Where are you off to?’
‘Drinks!’ said Nakor with a grin.
De Loungville rolled his eyes heavenward. ‘Well, don’t kill anyone.’ He asked Jadow, ‘You coming back?’
Jadow grinned. ‘I don’t know why, but yes.’
His own smile vanishing, de Loungville said, ‘You know exactly why.’
Instantly all humor fled. Each man had seen exactly what the others had, and all knew that a terrible enemy gathered across the sea, and that no matter how much had been accomplished in recent months, the struggle had only just started. A decade or more might pass before the final confrontation with the armies gathered under the banner of the Emerald Queen, but eventually every man living in the Kingdom would either stand and fight or die.
After a moment’s silence, de Loungville waved them down the street. ‘Get away with you. Don’t have too much fun.’ As the men walked off, he called after, ‘Erik, you and Jadow be back here tomorrow to get your papers. On the day after, you’re deserters! And you know we hang deserters!’
‘That man,’ said Jadow as they moved down the street in search of an inn. ‘Always with them threats. He has an unnatural love of hanging, don’t you know?’
Roo laughed and the rest joined in, and the mood lightened as an inn seemed to appear by magic on the corner before them.
Roo awoke, his head pounding and his mouth dry. The inside of his eyes felt as if someone had put sand behind the lids, and his breath smelled as if something had crawled into his mouth and died. He moved and Erik let out a groan, so he moved the other way, only to find Jadow groaning and pushing him away.
With no other choice, he sat up and instantly wished he had remained asleep. He forced himself to keep whatever was in his stomach from coming up and at last managed to focus his eyes.
‘Oh, wonderful,’ he said, and instantly regretted talking. His own voice made his head hurt.
They were in a cell. And unless Roo was mistaken, he knew exactly what cell. It was a long cell, open along one side to a hall, with floor-to-ceiling bars and a door with a heavy iron lock plate. Slightly above head height opposite the bars, a long window, less than two feet in height, ran the length of the cell. He knew the cell was below ground level, as the window was only a foot or so above ground, giving a peculiar angle so those inside the cell could see the scaffold dominating the courtyard beyond. He was now in the death cell beneath the Prince of Krondor’s palace.
He pushed Erik and his friend groaned as if tortured. Roo shook him insistently and at last Erik came awake. ‘What?’ he said as he tried to focus his attention on his friend’s face. ‘Where are we?’
‘Back in the death cell.’
Erik looked instantly sober. He glanced around and saw Nakor curled up in the corner, snoring, while Sho Pi lay a short distance away.
They shook the others awake and took stock. Several of them were splattered with dried blood, and they all nursed an assortment of bruises, scrapes, and cuts. ‘What happened?’ croaked Roo, his voice sounding as if he’d eaten sand.
Jadow said, ‘Those Quegan sailors, remember?’
Sho Pi and Nakor, who seemed, of the company, the least worse for wear, exchanged glances, and Nakor said, ‘One of them tried to remove a young woman from your lap, Roo.’
Roo nodded, then wished he hadn’t. ‘I remember now.’
Jadow said, ‘I hit someone with a chair …’
Nakor said, ‘Maybe we killed those Quegans.’
Erik tried to stay on his feet by leaning against the wall, his knees shaking from his hangover, and said, ‘It would be just the sort of black joke the gods make that after all we have been through, we end up back here waiting for the gallows again.’
Roo felt vaguely guilty, as he always did when he had drunk too much the night before. He was a slight man, so trying to keep up drink for drink with men the size of Jadow and Erik was foolish, even though Erik didn’t have much of a head for drink. ‘If I killed someone, you’d think I’d remember,’ Roo observed.
‘Well, what are we doing back here in the death cell, man?’ asked Jadow from where he sat in the corner, obviously disturbed at their circumstances. ‘I didn’t sail around the world and back again so Bobby de Loungville could finally hang me.’
As they were attempting to gather their wits, the door to the hall was yanked open, clanging into the wall-hard enough to make every man visibly wince. De Loungville walked into view and shouted, ‘On your feet, you swine!’
Without thought, everyone except Nakor leaped to his feet, and each man groaned an instant later. Jadow Shati turned his head and vomited into the chamber pot, then spat. The others stood on unsteady feet, Erik having to grip the bars of the cell to keep himself upright.
With a grin, de Loungville said, ‘What a lovely bunch you are.’
Nakor asked. ‘What are we doing back here, Sergeant?’
De Loungville moved to the cell door and pulled it open, showing it hadn’t been locked, and said, ‘We couldn’t think of anywhere else to put you conveniently. Did you know it took the better part of a full watch of the city guard and a squad of the palace guards to arrest you?’ He beamed like a proud father. ‘Quite a brawl. And you had the good sense not to kill anyone, though you did damage quite a few.’
With a wave, de Loungville indicated they should follow him. ‘Prince Patrick and his uncles felt it was better to keep you lot close by for the rest of the night,’ he said as he led them from the cell.
Roo glanced around and remembered the last time he had seen these passages, as he was being led to the mock hanging that had set his feet upon a path he never could have imagined before leaving his birthplace. The first journey he had made along here was almost lost on him, so far had his mind retreated into terror then. Now he could barely focus because of the abuses of the night before.
He and Erik had fled their lifelong home in Ravensburg after killing Erik’s half brother, Stefan, then Baron of Dark-moor. Had they stayed and faced trial, they might have convinced a judge it was self-defense, but their flight counted heavily against them and they had been sentenced to die.
They reached the steps that led up toward the yard where the gallows stood, but this time they passed them by. De Loungville, the man who had held their lives in his hand from the moment they had fallen to the hard wooden floor of the gallows until they had departed ship the day before, said, ‘You’re a scruffy bunch, so I think we should clean you up a bit before your audience.’
‘Audience?’ asked Erik, still showing signs of damage from the night before. One of the strongest men Roo had ever known – uncontestedly the strongest boy in Ravens-burg – Erik had pitched a guardsman through a window just before another broke a wine jar over his head. Roo couldn’t tell if he had taken more damage from the blow or from the large amounts of wine he had been drinking before the fight started; Erik had never been much of a drinker.
‘Some important men would like a word with you. It wouldn’t do to have you in court looking as you do. Now,’ he said, pushing open a door, ‘strip off!’
Hot tubs of soapy water waited and the men did as they were bidden. Two years of following de Loungville’s orders without question had formed a habit too hard to break, and soon the five men were sitting in tubs, letting palace pages sponge them down.
Pitchers of cold water were provided and the men all drank their fill. Between the very hot bath and the large amounts of cold water he drank, Roo began to feel again that life might be worth living.
When clean, they discovered their clothing had been removed. De Loungville pointed to two black tunics with a familiar mark upon the breast. Erik picked one up and said, ‘The Crimson Eagle.’
De Loungville said, ‘Nicholas thought it fitting and Calis didn’t object. It’s the banner of our new army, Erik. You and Jadow are my first two corporals, so put those on.’ To the others he said, ‘There’s some clean clothing over there.’
Nakor and Sho Pi both looked odd in the clean tunic and trousers instead of the usual robes they affected, but Roo found his own appearance improved dramatically. The tunic might be a little large for his diminutive frame, but it was certainly the finest weave he had ever worn, and the trousers fit perfectly. He was still barefoot, but months at sea had toughened his feet to the point he didn’t think twice about it.
Erik retained his worn boots, but Jadow, like the others, went barefoot.
After they dressed, the men followed de Loungville into a familiar hall; here the men of Calis’s desperate company had stood trial before the Prince of Krondor – at the time, Nicholas. The hall hadn’t changed much, Roo thought, but he realized that his mind had been so numb from terror the last time he had been there he had barely noticed his surroundings.
Ancient banners hung from every ceiling beam, casting the hall into shadow as they cut the light from windows high in the vaulted ceiling. Torches burned in sconces along the wall to provide illumination, for despite the large windows in the far wall, the hall was immense enough the light did not reach far enough. Roo considered he would have the banners removed, were he the Prince.
Along the walls stood courtiers and pages ready to do the royal bidding at a moment’s notice, and a formally attired Master of Ceremony struck the floor with an iron-shod staff of office, announcing Robert de Loungville, Baron of the Court and Special Agent of the Prince. Roo shook his head slightly in amusement, for de Loungville was the company’s sergeant, and to think of him as a court baron was too alien a task.
Members of the court watched as the squad came to stand before the throne. Roo calculated as best he could the worth of the gold used to decorate the candle holders along the near wall, and decided the Prince could better use his wealth by replacing them with brass – highly decorative, but far less costly, freeing up wealth to invest in the proper enterprise. Then he wondered if he might be allowed to speak to the Prince on just such a subject.
Thinking of the Prince returned Roo’s attention to the man who had once pronounced the death sentence upon him. Nicholas, now his nephew’s Admiral of the Western Fleet, stood to one side of the throne beside his successor, Prince Patrick. To the other side stood Calis and the man Roo knew to be James, Duke of Krondor, speaking to the man they had seen on the docks, Patrick’s uncle Prince Erland. And sitting upon the throne was his twin. Roo suddenly flushed when he realized they were being presented to the King!
‘Your Majesty, Highnesses,’ said de Loungville with a courtly bow, ‘I have the honor to present five men who acquitted themselves with bravery and honor.’
‘Only five survived?’ asked King Borric. He and his brother were both large men, but there was an edge to the King, a toughness beyond his brother’s own powerful appearance. Roo couldn’t rightly judge the why of such things, but he instinctively considered the King a more dangerous opponent than Prince Erland.
‘There are others,’ said de Loungville. ‘Some will be presented this afternoon at court – soldiers from your various garrisons. But these are the only ones to survive from among the condemned.’
Nakor said, ‘That we know of.’
De Loungville turned with a look of irritation on his face at the breach of protocol, but Borric only grinned. ‘Nakor, is that you in that getup?’
Returning the King’s smile, Nakor moved forward. ‘It’s me, Majesty. I went, too, and came back. Greylock is with the other ship, and any others who survived and made their way to the City of the Serpent River will be with him.’
De Loungville bit back anything he was going to say to Nakor. It was obvious that he and the King knew each other. Nakor nodded toward Erland, who also smiled at the sight of the little Isalani.
To the four prisoners the King said, ‘You are all pardoned, your crimes and your sentences are vacated.’ Glancing at Erik and Jadow, he said, ‘We see you’ve taken service.’
Erik merely nodded, while Jadow stammered, ‘Ye-yes, Majesty.’
Looking at Sho Pi and Roo, the King said, ‘You have not.’
Sho Pi bowed his head. ‘I will follow my master, Majesty.’
Nakor said, ‘Stop calling me master!’ He turned toward the King. ‘The boy thinks me some sort of sage and insists upon traipsing around after me.’
Prince Erland said, ‘I wonder why. It wouldn’t be because he saw you pulling your “mystic sage” scam, would it, Nakor?’
‘Or is it the “wandering priest” dodge?’ asked the King.
Nakor grinned as he rubbed his chin. ‘Actually, I haven’t tried those in a while.’ Then his expression darkened. ‘And I never should have told you two about them when we rode back from Kesh.’
The King said, ‘Well, take him along with you, then. You could probably do with an extra set of hands on the road.’
Nakor said, ‘On the road? I’m returning to Sorcerer’s Isle.’
The King said, ‘Not for a while. We need you to go to Stardock on the Crown’s behalf, to speak with the leaders of the Academy.’
Nakor’s expression darkened. ‘You know I’m quits with Stardock, Borric, and you have a good idea why, I have no doubt.’
If the King objected to being addressed so informally, he didn’t show it as he said, ‘We know, but you also have seen firsthand what we’re up against, and you’ve been to Novindus twice. We need you to persuade the magicians at Stardock what stands against us. We will need their help.’
‘Find Pug. They’ll listen to him,’ said Nakor.
‘If we could find him, we would,’ said the King. He leaned back in the deep well of the throne and sighed. ‘He’s been leaving messages here and there, but we’ve not managed to get him to come speak with us in person.’
‘Try harder,’ answered Nakor.
Borric smiled. ‘You, friend, are the best we’ve got. So, unless you want us to let every gambling hall in the Kingdom get word about how you can handle cards and dice, you’ll do this one little favor for an old friend.’
Nakor made a disgusted expression and waved his hand as if dismissing the King’s remark. ‘Bah! I liked you better when you were just the Madman.’ He held his sour look for a moment while Borric and Erland exchanged amused glances.
Turning his attention to Roo, the King said, ‘And what of you, Rupert Avery? Can we not enlist your aid as well?’
The King’s direct address caused Roo to forget momentarily how to speak; then he swallowed hard and said, ‘Sorry, Majesty. I promised myself if I lived long enough, I’d come back and get rich. That’s what I propose to do. I’m going to be a man of commerce, and I can’t do that in the army.’
The King nodded. ‘Commerce? We suppose it’s a better trade than many you could choose.’ He avoided any further remarks about Roo’s past. ‘Still, you’ve seen what few men outside our service have seen. We count upon your discretion, and if our meaning isn’t clear, we expect your discretion.’
Roo smiled. ‘I understand, Majesty. And I will promise this much when the time comes, I’ll help in whatever way I can. If those snakes come here, I’ll fight.’ Then with a twinkle and a smile he added, ‘Besides, the day may come when I can be of more use to you than just another sword.’
‘Perhaps, Rupert Avery,’ said King Borric. ‘You certainly do not lack for ambition.’ He waved over Lord James and said, ‘If it doesn’t compromise our dignity, see if we can be of a little help in getting Mr Avery’s career under way. Perhaps a letter of introduction or some such.’ He then waved over a squire who carried five bags, which were distributed one to each of the men. ‘A thank-you from your King.’
Roo hefted the bag and knew inside there was gold and could even estimate the worth from the weight. He quickly calculated he was already a year ahead of schedule in his plan to become wealthy. Then he noticed the others were bowing and moving away, so he quickly made an awkward bow to the King and hurried after the others.
Outside the hall, de Loungville said, ‘Well then, now you’re free men again.’ To Jadow and Erik he said, ‘Stay out of trouble and be back here on the first day of next month.’ To Nakor and Sho Pi he said, ‘The King’s messages will be ready tomorrow. See Duke James’s secretary, and he’ll give you travel warrants and money.’
He turned to Roo and said, ‘You’re a rodent, Avery, but I’ve come to love that pinched-off little face of yours. If you change your mind, I can use another experienced soldier.’
Roo shook his head. ‘Thanks, Sergeant, but I’ve got to find a merchant with a homely daughter and start making my fortune.’
To the assembled men, de Loungville said, ‘If you must enjoy the pleasures of the flesh before returning home, go to the Sign of the White Wing, over near the Merchants’ Gate. It’s a brothel of high standard, so don’t track mud inside. Tell the lady who meets you that I sent you. She may never forgive me, but she owes me a favor. See you don’t cause a riot there, because I can’t bail you out two nights running.’ Looking from face to face, he said, ‘All things considered, you did well, lads.’
No one spoke until Erik said, ‘Thank you, Sergeant.’
To Jadow and Erik, de Loungville said, ‘Stop by the Knight-Marshal’s office on your way out and get your warrants. You’re the Prince’s men, and from this day forward you answer only to Patrick, Calis, and me.’
Erik said, ‘Where?’
‘Down this hall and turn right, second door on the left. Now get out of here,’ said de Loungville, ‘before I change my mind and have you arrested again for being such a bunch of ruffians.’ He sent Roo down the hall with a playful slap to the side of the head, then turned and set out on his own affairs.
The five men walked down the hall and Nakor said, ‘I’m hungry.’
‘You’re always hungry, man,’ said Jadow with a laugh. ‘My head is still reminding me that I was not wise last night. My stomach hasn’t forgiven me either.’ Then he paused, and added, ‘But I might do with a bite to eat, after all that.’
Erik laughed. ‘I’m hungry, too.’
‘Then let us find an inn –’ said Nakor.
‘A quiet inn,’ Roo interjected.
‘– a quiet inn,’ continued Nakor, ‘and eat.’
‘Then what, Master?’ asked Sho Pi.
Nakor grimaced, but said only, ‘Then we go to the Sign of the White Wing, boy.’ He shook his head. Pointing to Sho Pi, he said to the others, ‘This one has much to learn.’
The Sign of the White Wing was nothing like what Roo expected. Then he considered he really hadn’t known what to expect. He had trafficked with whores before, but that had been on the line of march, with camp followers who would tumble a man beside to his comrades and be off to the next as soon as he could count out her pay.
But this was a different world. The five slightly inebriated men had had to ask several times to find their way. After a few failed attempts, they finally discovered a modest building near the edge of the Merchants’ Quarter. The sign out front had been almost impossible to make out, being little more than a simple metal wing painted white, unlike the more boldly painted large ones marking more traditional trades.
The door had been opened by a servant who admitted the five without a word, indicating they should wait in a tiny anteroom, without furnishing of any sort, only decorated by some nondescript tapestries that hung on the two side walls. Opposite the entrance stood another door, of simple painted wood. When it opened, a well-dressed if somewhat matronly woman had stepped through.
‘Yes?’ she had asked.
The men glanced at one another, and it was Nakor who had at last answered. ‘We were told to come here.’
‘By whom?’ she then asked, looking somewhat unconvinced.
‘Robert de Loungville,’ said Erik softly, as if afraid to raise his voice.
Instantly the woman’s features had transformed themselves from dubious to joyful. ‘Bobby de Loungville! By the gods, if you’re friends of Bobby’s, you’re welcome here.’
She then clapped her hands once and the door she had slipped through opened wide, revealing a short entryway occupied by two large armed guards. As they stepped aside, Roo thought it clear they had been standing by to ensure the safety of the woman.
‘I’m Jamila, your hostess, and here,’ she said, reaching another door, which she pulled wide, ‘we enter the House of the White Wing.’
The five men gaped. Even Nakor, who had seen riches in the court of the Empress of Great Kesh, stood in stunned awe. The room wasn’t that opulent; far from it. In fact it was the lack of gaudy displays of wealth that made the setting so impressive. Everything about the room was subtle and tasteful, though Roo would have been hard put to say what made it seem so. Chairs and divans were placed around the room so that those inside would be within sight of one another, yet there was a clear sense of each area being apart from the others. This was made abundantly clear by the fact of a wealthy-looking man sprawling upon one divan, sipping wine from a goblet while two lovely young women attended him. One sat upon the floor, allowing him to caress her shoulders and neck, while the other hovered over him, offering him sweetmeats from a gilded tray.
As if by magic, girls appeared through several curtains. All were modestly dressed, like the two attending the man already in the room, wearing loose-fitting gowns of light material. That they were covered from neck to ankle did nothing to hide the curves of their bodies as they moved to greet their guests.
Each man found a pair of girls leading him toward one of the chairs or divans, allowing him to choose how he wished to relax, sitting or lying down. Before he knew it, Roo had been led to a divan and gently pushed down on it, had his feet raised and placed on the divan, had a goblet of wine handed to him; one of the girls began firmly kneading the muscles in his shoulders before he spoke.
The woman called Jamila said, ‘When you’re ready, the girls can show you to your rooms.’
Jadow, circling the waist of one of the young girls with one powerful arm, pulled her toward him, planted a loud kiss upon her cheek, and said, ‘Men and gods, I’ve died and gone to paradise!’
This brought a round of laughter, and Roo settled back, letting the light touch of the girl’s hands relax him in a way he’d not experienced in years.
• Chapter Two • Homecoming (#ulink_38a37e7f-2df8-54fe-9d5f-e7ec0966e121)
Roo yawned.
The body next to him stirred under white sheets and he realized where he was. He smiled, remembering the night before, and ran his hand under the sheet and across the back of the young woman next to him. He didn’t think of her as a whore; the term was fit for the women who followed soldiers around camp, or who leaned over the balconies in the Poor Quarter of Krondor shouting ribald suggestions and insults at the workers and sailors below, but these ladies, he decided, were unlike anything he had imagined as a boy.
They were flirtatious, seemed well educated, were impeccable in their manners, and, as Roo had discovered the night before, creative and enthusiastic. The young woman next to him had taught Roo more things about pleasing a woman and himself in one night than he had learned from every woman he had been with in his young life. And they smelled wonderful, like flowers and spices. He found himself becoming aroused and with a grin continued to caress the body next to him.
The girl awoke, and if she had any problem with being awakened thus, she masked it with incredible skill; she actually seemed pleased to discover Roo lying next to her.
‘Good morning,’ she said with a wide smile. Running her fingers along his stomach, she said, ‘What a nice way to wake up.’
As he gathered the girl into his arms, Roo considered himself fortunate. He had no illusions about his looks; he was easily the homeliest boy from Ravensburg, but he had managed to bed two of the local girls in town before he and Erik had been forced to flee. He knew, given enough time, he could charm most anyone, though he rarely tried. But now he was alive, with gold in his belt, and a woman willing to make him feel handsome. It was the start of a wonderful day.
Later he bid the girl good-bye, realizing that he couldn’t remember if her name was Mary or Marie. He found Erik already dressed and waiting in the antechamber, speaking with a particularly pretty young blonde.
Erik looked up. ‘Ready to leave?’
Roo nodded. ‘The others?’
‘We’ll see them when we get back from Ravensburg, or at least I will.’ He rose and was still holding on to the girl’s hand.
There was something about his manner that struck Roo as odd, and as they left the brothel, he remarked, ‘You seemed smitten with that pretty girl.’
Erik blushed. ‘Nothing of the kind. She’s …’
After a silent moment, Roo supplied, ‘A whore?’
The city was busy at that hour of the morning, and they were forced to wend their way through the press. Erik said, ‘I guess. Something more like a lady, I think.’
Roo shrugged, the gesture lost on Erik. ‘They get paid well, that’s for certain.’ He was now considering the diminishment of his purse as he weighed the cost versus the reward. He decided he needed to husband his capital a bit more carefully. There were far less expensive whores to be found.
‘Where to next?’ asked Roo.
‘I need to talk to Sebastian Lender.’
Roo brightened. Barret’s Coffee House was one of the places he wished to visit, and having a social call to make upon one of the solicitors who plied their business there was an eminently acceptable reason.
They headed to the area of the city known locally as the Merchants’ Quarter, even though it held only a slightly higher percentage of businesses than elsewhere in the city. What marked the Merchants’ Quarter was a high number of very costly homes, many erected behind or above the stores that generated their wealth, the highest concentration of influential men who were not nobility.
The craftsmen had their guilds – the thieves, too: the Mockers – and the nobility had their rank from birth, but men who pursued their fortune through commerce and trade had only their wits. While a few of them had banded together to create trade associations from time to time, more were independent businessmen without allies but with many competitors.
So those who survived and became successful had few peers with whom to share their pride of accomplishment, few fellows with whom to boast of their good fortune and perspicacity. A few, like a merchant Roo had met named Helmut Grindle, kept their appearance modest, as if to call attention to themselves might bring ruin. But others chose to shout their success to the world by building huge town houses, rivaling those owned by the nobility, throughout the city. And over the years the nature of the Merchants’ Quarter had changed.
As more and more rich merchants purchased property in the area, the cost of land rose so high that now few businesses in the Merchants’ Quarter were owned by those who lived there; the price of housing was too dear. There were a few modest storefront enterprises, established by the fathers or grandfathers of those tending them now, that continued to provide conventional goods and services to those in the area – a bakery on one street, a cobbler on another – but they were quickly being replaced by shops specializing in luxurious items for these very wealthy merchants: jewelers, tailors of the finest clothing, and traders in rare goods. And those who lived in the Merchants’ Quarter were now almost exclusively these very wealthy businessmen, those with far-flung financial empires elsewhere in the province or in distant cities. In time the last of the modest merchants would sell their property, as the offers to buy became too good to refuse, and relocate to more distant quarters in the foulburg, that expanding portion of the city beyond the old wall.
Barret’s Coffee House stood at the corner of a street now known as Arutha’s Way, in honor of the late Prince of Krondor, father to the King – but still called by most locals Sandy Beach Walk – and Miller’s Road, a route that had once led from a mill no longer extant to a farmer’s gate long torn down. Barret’s was a tall building, three stories, with two open doors at the corner, one on each street. Standing in each door was a waiter: a man with a white tunic, black trousers, black boots, and a blue-and-white-striped apron.
The three other street corners were occupied by a tavern, a ship’s broker, and, diagonally across the street from Barret’s, an abandoned home. It had once been splendid, perhaps one of the finest in Krondor, but misfortune had cost its owner dearly from all appearances. It had been neglected long before it was abandoned, and its past glory was now faded by peeling paint, boarded-up windows, missing tiles from the roof, and dirt everywhere.
Roo glanced at that building. ‘Maybe someday I’ll buy that house and fix it up.’
Erik smiled. ‘I don’t doubt it, Roo.’
Roo and Erik walked past the waiter standing at the door on Miller’s Road, and entered. The two outside doors opened on a simple receiving area, offering several well-upholstered chairs, but otherwise closed off from the main floor of the coffee house by a wooden railing. There was one opening in the railing blocked by a man attired in a manner similar to the two waiters at the door. The main difference was that his apron was black.
A tall man, he looked eye to eye at Erik, then down at Roo as he said, ‘Yes?’
Erik said, ‘We’ve come to see Sebastian Lender.’
The man nodded. ‘Follow me, please.’ He turned and walked onto the main floor of the coffee house.
Roo and Erik followed and were led through a large area of small tables, several occupied by men drinking coffee, while waiters hurried from table to table. To the left as they reached the center of the room a broad flight of stairs led up to a balcony rather than a true second floor, leaving the center of the room open to the high vaulted ceiling. Looking up, Roo saw there was no third floor, but rather a double set of high windows above the second-floor balcony. Barret’s was a very open, well-lit building as a result. They reached another waist-high railing, which cut off the rear third of the room, and there the waiter said, ‘Please wait here.’
The waiter moved a small section of the rail that was on hinges, and stepped through and toward a table at the far side of the house. Roo motioned upward and Erik’s eyes went to where he pointed.
Above them, on the second-floor landing, men sat at tables. Roo said, ‘The brokers.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’ve heard a thing or two,’ said Roo.
Erik laughed and shook his head. Most likely he had heard it from Helmut Grindle, the trader they had traveled with for a while when coming to Krondor. Roo and Grindle had spoken of many things commercial, and while Erik had found some of the conversation diverting, as often as not it put him to sleep.
A moment later, a dignified-looking man wearing an unadorned but expensive tunic with an overvest and cravat approached. He studied the two young men before him for a moment, then said, ‘My word! Young von Darkmoor and Mr Avery, if I’m not mistaken.’
Roo nodded as Erik said, ‘Yes, Mr Lender. We gained our pardon.’
‘Most unusual,’ said Lender. He motioned for the waiter to open the railing for him to step through. ‘Only members are permitted behind this second railing.’ He indicated with a wave of his hand that Roo and Erik should sit at an empty table a few feet away.
He motioned for the waiter and said, ‘Three coffees.’ Looking at Roo and Erik, he asked, ‘Have you broken fast today?’ When they answered in the negative, he said to the waiter, ‘Some rolls, jams and honey, and a platter of cheese and sausage.’
As the waiter hurried off, Lender said, ‘As you are pardoned, you obviously do not need my services as a solicitor, so perhaps you need them as a litigator?’
Erik said, ‘Not really. I came to pay you your fee.’
Lender began to object, but Erik said, ‘I know you refused to take gold before, but despite your having lost the pleading, we are here and alive, so I think you’re entitled to your fee.’ He produced his money pouch and put it upon the table. It clinked with the heavy sound of gold coins.
Lender said, ‘You’ve prospered, young gentlemen.’
‘It’s a payment for services from the Prince,’ said Roo.
Shrugging, Lender opened the purse, counted out fifteen golden sovereigns, then closed the purse, pushing it back toward Erik. He pocketed the coins.
‘Is that enough?’ asked Erik.
‘Had I won, I would have charged you fifty,’ said Lender as the coffee arrived.
Roo had never cared for coffee, so he sipped at it, expecting to put aside the cup and ignore it. But to his surprise, instead of the bitter brew he had tasted before, this was a rich complex taste. ‘This is good!’ he blurted.
Erik laughed and tried his, then said, ‘It is.’
‘Keshian,’ said Lender. ‘Far superior to what is grown in the Kingdom. More flavor, less bitterness.’ He waved his hand around the room. ‘Barret’s is the first establishment in Krondor to specialize exclusively in fine coffees, and as a sign of his wisdom, the founder placed his first shop here in the heart of the Merchants’ Quarter, rather than trying to sell to the nobility.’
Roo instantly came alert; stories of success appealed to him. ‘Why is that?’ he asked.
‘Because the nobility are difficult to approach, expect extreme discounts, and rarely pay in a timely fashion.’
Roo laughed. ‘I’ve heard that from the wine merchants at home.’
Lender continued. ‘Mr Barret knew that the local businessmen often needed a place away from their homes or offices where they could discuss business over a meal, without the distractions of an inn’s taproom.’
Erik again nodded, having spent a fair part of his life in the taproom of the inn where he had worked as a child.
‘So was born Barret’s Coffee House, which prospered from the first week it was opened. Originally a more modest enterprise, it has existed for nearly seventy-five years, in this location for close to sixty.’
‘What about the brokers, and syndicates, and … you?’ asked Roo.
Lender smiled as a tray of hot rolls, breakfast meats, cheeses, and fruits, along with pots of jam, honey, and butter, was brought to the table.
Suddenly hungry, Roo took a roll and slathered butter and honey on it while Lender answered him. ‘Some of those without offices of their own used to conduct business all day long and, to keep Barret happy, would buy coffee, tea, and food in a steady stream. Seeing this as a pleasant alternative to hours of empty tables between meals, Mr Barret ensured certain tables would remain reserved for those businessmen.
‘They formed the first syndicates and brokerage alliances. And they needed representation’ – he put his hand upon his chest and bowed slightly – ‘hence litigators and solicitors became habitués of the establishment. When things became crowded, the son of the founder moved to this inn, tore out the third floor, and created the exclusive members’ area above, and things have continued that way since.’ He motioned at the second rail. ‘Some members were forced to use this end of the ground floor, hence the newer railing. Now one must purchase a location in the hall for one’s syndicate or brokerage, or risk not having a table at which to sit when arriving to conduct business.’
Glancing around, he added, ‘You now are in the heart of one of the most important trading centers in the Kingdom, certainly the most important in the Western Realm, and rivaled only by those in Rillanon, Kesh, and Queg.’
‘How does one become a broker?’ asked Roo.
‘First you need money,’ answered the litigator, not in the least put off by the youngster seeking instruction. ‘A great deal of money. This is why there are so many syndicates, because of the great cost of underwriting many of the projects that are conceived of here at Barret’s or brought to us from the outside.’
‘How does one start?’ asked Roo. ‘I mean, I have some money, but I’m not sure if I want to invest it here or try my own hand.’
‘No partnership will admit an investor without good cause,’ said Lender. He sipped his coffee, then continued. ‘Over the years a complex set of rules has evolved. Noble-men often come to Barret’s seeking either to invest wealth or to borrow it, and as a result, the interests of those here who are commoners need to be closely protected. So, to join a syndicate, one needs a great deal of money – though not as much as to become an independent broker – and one also needs a sponsor.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Roo.
‘One who is already a member of Barret’s or who has close ties to one of the members who can vouch for you. If you have the capital, then you need the introduction.’
‘Can’t you do that?’ asked Roo, obviously eager.
‘No,’ said Lender with a slightly sad smile. ‘For all my influence and position, here I am but a guest. My office has been here for nearly twenty-five years, but only because I work on behalf of nearly thirty different brokers and syndicates, and I have never placed a copper piece of my own capital at risk through any offering.’
‘What’s an offering?’ asked Erik.
Lender put up his hand. ‘There are more questions than time, young von Darkmoor.’ He signaled to one of the ever-present waiters. ‘In my property box you’ll find a long blue velvet bag. Please bring it here.’ To Erik and Roo he said, ‘I enjoy the break from the routine, but time doesn’t permit a leisurely discourse on the business at Barret’s.’
Roo said, ‘I plan on being a broker.’
‘Do you?’ said Lender, and his face lit up with delight. His expression wasn’t mocking, but he seemed to find the pronouncement entertaining. ‘What is this venture, then, that you spoke of?’
Roo leaned back. ‘It’s a plan I have that would take too long to speak of, I’m sorry to say.’
Lender laughed while Erik blushed at his friend’s bold freshness. ‘Well said,’ answered Lender.
‘Besides, added Roo, ‘I think discretion is in order.’
‘Often that is the case,’ agreed Lender as the waiter returned with the requested item. Lender took the velvet bag and opened it, removing a dagger. It was a deftly fashioned thing, with a sheath of ivory set with a small ruby and bound at the top and tip with gold. He handed it to Erik. ‘It was the other part of your legacy from your father.’
Erik took the dagger and pulled the blade from the sheath. ‘Impressive,’ he said. ‘I may not be as well practiced with weapons at the forge as I am with horseshoes, but this is fine work.’
‘From Rodez, I believe,’ said Lender.
‘Best steel in the Kingdom,’ agreed Erik. The blade was embossed with the von Darkmoor family crest, finely cut into the steel, and yet it was well balanced, both decorative and deadly. The hilt was carved bone, perhaps from the antler of an elk or moose, and capped with gold to match the sheath.
Lender pushed back his chair. ‘Young sirs, I must be back to my business, but please feel free to linger awhile and refresh yourselves. If you ever have need of a solicitor or a litigator, you know where to find me.’ He waved vaguely at the place from which he had appeared and added, ‘Goodbye. It was good seeing you well.’
Erik rose, as did Roo, and they bade their host farewell, then looked at each other. As old friends do, they shared a single thought between them, and Roo said, ‘Home.’
They moved through the crowded common room of Barret’s, a place both strange and exciting to Roo, and exited. At the door, Erik turned to one of the waiters and asked, ‘Where can a man buy a good horse?’
‘Cheaply!’ injected Roo.
The waiter didn’t hesitate. ‘At the Merchants’ Gate,’ he said, pointing along Arutha’s Way, ‘you’ll find several dealers. Most are thieves, but there’s a man named Morgan there who can be trusted. Tell him Jason at Barret’s sent you and he’ll treat you fairly.’
Roo studied the young man’s face. Brown hair and light freckles marked him and Roo said, ‘I’ll remember you if he doesn’t.’
The young man frowned, ever so slightly, but said only, ‘He’s honest, sir.’
‘What about new clothing?’ ask Erik.
Jason said, ‘The tailor at New Gate Road and Broad Street is a cousin of mine, sir. Tell him I sent you and he’ll see you right for a reasonable sum.’
Roo didn’t look convinced, but Erik said thanks and led his friend away. They remained silent as they wended their way through the crowded city streets. It took them the better part of an hour to reach the tailor’s and an hour to select clothing for travel that fit. Erik chose a riding cloak to cover his uniform tunic, and Roo purchased an inexpensive tunic and trousers, a cloak, and a slouch hat. Erik also found a cobbler who provided him with a pair of boots to wear while those left him by his father were mended. Roo had gotten used to going barefoot while aboard ship, but purchased a pair of boots for riding.
Soon after they were at the Merchants’ Gate and spent another hour haggling for a pair of horses, but the waiter had been truthful with them and Morgan was an honest trader. Erik picked out two sturdy geldings, a bay for himself and a grey for Roo. Leading the horses away with rope halters, they found a saddler, a half-block away and quickly had the horses tacked up and ready to ride.
Roo settled into the saddle and said, ‘I don’t care how much I do it, I’ll never get to like riding.’
Erik laughed. ‘You’ve become a better than average horseman, Roo, despite your objections. And this time you can ride without much worry about having to fight while on that creature’s back.’
Roo’s expression darkened.
Erik said, ‘What?’
‘What’s this “much” business?’
Erik laughed even louder. ‘There are no guarantees in this life, my friend.’ So saying, he put heels to sides, and the horse moved out briskly toward the Merchants’ Gate and the road eastward. ‘On to Ravensburg!’ he shouted.
Roo could only laugh at his friend’s merriment, and he followed suit, discovering that this horse was inclined to argue with every command. Taking a firm hand, and knowing that the sooner the battle was fought the sooner it was won, Roo slammed his heels hard against the horse’s sides and drove him after Erik’s mount. Quickly they were outside the city wall, on their way home.
Rain pelted them, its insistent beat a physical assault. Night was rapidly approaching and the only traffic on the road was local businessmen and farmers hurrying home. A resigned wagon driver barely looked over at Roo and Erik passing as he urged his slowly plodding horses to continue through the mud. The King’s Highway might be the artery that carried the lifeblood of commerce from one border to the other, but when the rains came to the Barony of Darkmoor, the blood didn’t flow, it oozed.
Erik shouted, ‘Lights.’
Roo looked out from under the sodden brim of his once handsome slouch hat. ‘Wilhelmsburg?’
‘I think,’ said Erik. ‘We’ll be home by tomorrow afternoon.’
‘I don’t suppose I could convince you to sleep in some stranger’s barn, could I?’ said Roo, having spent more money on this journey than he had planned.
‘No,’ answered Erik without humor. ‘I’m for a dry bed and a hot meal.’
That image overcame Roo’s reluctance to spend another coin, and he followed his friend toward the lights of the town. They found a modest inn, with a sign of a plowshare swinging in the wind, and rode through the side gate to the stable. Erik shouted, and a lackey came out, bundled against the weather, to take the horses. He listened politely to Erik’s instructions and nodded, and Erik assumed he would be wise to return after supper to see the boy cared for the animals as he ordered.
They hurried into the taproom and, once inside, shook off the water from their cloaks.
‘Evening, sirs,’ said a young girl, pleasant-looking, with brown hair and eyes. ‘Will you be needing rooms for the night?’
‘Yes,’ said Roo, obviously displeased at the cost, but now that warmth was returning to his bones glad they were not returning to the weather outside.
‘Fit to be blowing up a rare storm tonight,’ said the innkeeper as he came and took their cloaks and hats. ‘Will you be dining?’ He handed the cloaks and hats to the girl, who took them somewhere warm to hang and dry.
‘Yes,’ said Erik. ‘What wine have you?’
‘Fit for a lord,’ said the man with a smile.
‘Any from Ravensburg?’ asked Erik as he made his way to an empty table.
Save for a solitary man with a sword in the far corner and two merchants obviously taking their ease before the fireplace, the inn was deserted. The innkeeper followed them, ‘We do, sir. It’s the next town over, then one more, and on to Ravensburg.’
‘So we are in Wilhelmsburg,’ said Roo.
‘Yes,’ answered the innkeeper. ‘Are you familiar with the area?’
‘We’re from Ravensburg,’ answered Erik. ‘It’s just been a while since we’ve been there and in the darkness we weren’t sure which town this was.’
‘Bring us some wine, please,’ asked Roo, ‘then supper.’
The meal was filling, if not memorable, and the wine better than expected; it clearly had a style and finish familiar to both Roo and Erik. It was the common wine of Ravens-burg, but compared to what they had been drinking the last year and more, this seemed a bottle fit for the King’s table. Both young men fell into a quiet mood, anticipating the homecoming the next day.
For Roo it was nothing much to do with his past; his immediate family was his father, Tom Avery, a drunken teamster whose only legacy to Roo had been beatings and teaching him to drive a team of horses. Roo was much more interested in seeking out some minor wine merchants he knew and arranging what he hoped would be the start of his rise to riches.
For Erik it was coming home to his mother and the shattered dream of his youth: a blacksmith’s forge and a family. He had served old Tyndal the smith for years before Tyndal’s death, then a year and more with Nathan, who had been the closest thing to a father he had known. But life took its own course, and nothing seemed to be as he had hoped it would, when he was a child in Ravensburg.
‘What are you thinking?’ asked Roo. ‘You’ve been quiet a long time.’
‘You haven’t exactly been bending my ear,’ replied Erik, a smile on his face. ‘Just about home and what it was like before.’
He didn’t have to say before what. Roo knew: before a struggle with Erik’s half brother Stefan ended up with Roo’s dagger driven into Stefan’s chest as Erik held him. After that they had fled Ravensburg and had not seen friend or family since.
Roo said, ‘I wonder if anyone told them we live?’
Erik laughed. ‘If they didn’t, our arrival tomorrow will be something of a surprise.’
The door opened and the howl of the wind caused the two young men to turn. Four soldiers in the garb of the barony entered, cursing the night’s foul weather.
‘Innkeeper!’ shouted the corporal as he removed his sopping great cloak. ‘Hot food and mulled wine!’ He glanced around the room, then his gaze returned to Roo and Erik. His eyes widened.
‘Von Darkmoor!’ he blurted. The other three soldiers fanned out, not quite sure why their corporal had called out their Baron’s name, but clearly alerted to trouble by his tone.
Erik and Roo stood, and the two merchants moved away from their chairs before the fireplace, hugging the wall. The only other person in the room, the swordsman, looked on with interest, but didn’t move.
The corporal had his sword out, and as Roo made to draw his own, Erik motioned for him to return it to its scabbard. ‘We’re not looking for trouble, Corporal.’
The corporal said, ‘We heard you’d been hung. I don’t know how you and your scrawny friend escaped, but we’ll soon put that right. Seize them.’
Roo said, ‘Wait a minute –’
The men moved quickly, but Erik and Roo were both quicker, and the first two soldiers who laid hands upon them found themselves on the floor, their heads ringing from swift blows. The two merchants spied a pathway past the trouble and beat a hasty exit from the room, running outside into the rain without their hats or coats. The man at the table laughed. ‘Well done!’ he shouted.
The corporal leveled his sword and thrust, but Erik slipped aside and had him by the wrist before he could react. One of the strongest men Roo had ever seen, Erik also had been trained in barehanded combat, and his iron grip wrung the corporal’s sword from his fingers as he gasped in pain.
Roo simply thrust with his hand, palm out, fingers extended, and delivered a sharp blow with the heel of his hand upward to the chin of the other standing soldier, who went down in a stunned heap.
‘Wait a minute!’ commanded Erik in the voice he had developed as Robert de Loungville’s corporal on their return from Novindus. The other two soldiers, who were slowly standing, hesitated, and Erik shouted his command: ‘Hold, damn you!’
He released the corporal’s wrist while kicking aside his sword so he couldn’t reach for it easily, then showed that his hands were empty of weapons. ‘I have a paper.’ He reached slowly inside his tunic, removed the document given him the day before by an officer in the office of the Knight-Marshal of Krondor, and handed it to the corporal.
The man took it and glanced it over. ‘Got the seal of Krondor at the bottom,’ he grudgingly admitted, while still sitting on the floor. Then his eyes lowered as he said, ‘Can’t read.’
The swordsman stood and with a relaxed air moved to Erik’s side. ‘If I may help, Corporal,’ he said, extending his hand.
The corporal handed back the document and the man read aloud: ‘Know you by my hand and seal that Erik von Darkmoor is sworn to my service and …’ His eyes glanced to the bottom of the document. ‘It’s a lot of mumbo-jumbo, Corporal. The short of it is you just tried to arrest one of Prince Nicholas’s personal guards. A corporal, like yourself, it says.’
‘A fact?’ asked the corporal, his eyes widened.
‘Yes, not only is the document signed by the Duke of Krondor’s own Knight-Marshal, the Prince himself signed it.’
‘True?’ was the corporal’s next remark as he slowly rose to his feet.
‘True,’ answered the stranger. ‘And from the way he took your sword from you, I think there’s a reason he’s in the Prince’s personal service.’
The corporal rubbed his wrist. ‘Well, perhaps.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But we heard nothing about this, and last time Erik’s name was mentioned it was when we heard he was to be hung for killing the young Baron.’
Erik sighed. ‘The Prince pardoned us.’
‘So you say,’ said the corporal. ‘But I think me and the boys will hurry back to Darkmoor and see what Lord Manfred has to say about this.’
He picked up his sword and signaled to his men to depart. One of them shook his head in disgust at forgoing a hot meal and the other threw Erik and Roo a black look as he helped the one Roo had stunned back to his feet.
That man, still trying to focus his eyes, said, ‘We’re leaving? Did we eat? Is it morning?’
The other said, ‘Shut up, Bluey. A bit of that cutting rain will sort you out, quick like.’
The soldiers left the inn and Erik turned to the stranger. ‘Thanks.’
The man shrugged. ‘If I hadn’t read it, the innkeeper or someone else would.’
Erik said, ‘I’m Erik von Darkmoor.’
The man took his hand. ‘Duncan Avery.’
Roo’s eyes widened. Cousin Duncan?’
The eyes of the man who had named himself Avery narrowed as he studied Roo. After a long moment he said, ‘Rupert?’
Suddenly they were laughing, and the man Rupert called cousin gave him a quick hug. ‘I haven’t seen you since you were a tadpole, youngster.’ He stepped back and a wry smile graced his features.
Erik glanced back and forth and couldn’t see even the most remote resemblance. While Roo was short, wiry, and signally unattractive, Duncan Avery was tall, slender, with broad shoulders, and handsome. Moreover, he dressed like a dandy, save for his sword, which was well used and well cared for. He sported a slender mustache, but otherwise was clean-shaven, and his hair hung to his shoulders, where it was cut evenly and curled under.
Pulling out a chair, Duncan signaled the serving girl to bring his plate and mug over, and sat.
Erik said, ‘I didn’t know you had a cousin, Roo.’
Roo’s eyes narrowed. ‘Of course you did.’
Erik waved away his previous comment. ‘I mean, I know you have a number of them in Salador and elsewhere in the east, but you’ve never mentioned this gentleman before.’
Duncan thanked the girl and winked at her, causing her to retire with a giggle as he said, ‘I’m crushed, Rupert. What does your friend mean, you’ve never spoken of me?’
Roo sat back, shaking his head. ‘It’s not like we were close, Duncan. I saw you, what? Three times in my life?’
Duncan laughed. ‘Something like that. Tried my hand at the teamsters trade when I was a boy,’ he said to Erik. ‘Got as far as riding with Roo’s pa from Ravensburg to Malac’s Cross, where I quit. Roo was no more than five then.’ His face turned somber. ‘Only time I got to meet his ma.’
‘When was the last time we saw each other?’ asked Roo.
Duncan rubbed his chin. ‘Can’t say I remember, save there was that lovely girl at the fountain: slender waist, ample hips and bosom, accommodating attitude … who was she?’
‘Gwen,’ supplied Roo. ‘And that must have been four or five years ago.’ Roo pointed a fork at Duncan. ‘You were her first.’ Then he grinned. ‘Many of the local lads owe you some thanks; you imparted a … certain enthusiasm in Gwen that we came to appreciate.’
Erik laughed. ‘I’m not one of them,’ he said.
Roo said, ‘Maybe the only boy in Ravensburg who didn’t.’
‘How are you related?’ Erik asked Duncan.
Duncan said, ‘My father is cousin to Roo’s father, Erik, and neither of those worthy gentlemen has much use for me.’ To Roo he said, ‘How is your pa?’
Roo shrugged. ‘Been a couple of years, really. We’re on our way to Ravensburg now. Where are you headed?’
‘I’m for the east, seeking my fortune as usual. I tried my hand doing mercenary duty down in the Vale of Dreams, but the work’s too dangerous, the women too dangerous’ – both Erik and Roo laughed at that – ‘and the money scarce. So I’m for the eastern courts, where a man’s wits stand him as well as his sword.’
Roo said, ‘I might have some use for that wit.’
‘What’s the plan?’ asked Duncan, suddenly interested.
‘Nothing dodgy. Some honest business, but I think I can use someone who knows his way around polite company.’
Duncan shrugged. ‘Well, I’ll ride with you to Ravensburg and we can talk along the way. Besides, you’ve got my curiosity piqued.’
‘Why?’ asked Erik.
‘The way you two moved … it was a sight. When I last saw Rupert he was a scrawny kid barely able to keep himself upright while he pissed, but now he looked downright lethal when he knocked out that soldier. Where did you learn to handle yourselves that way?’
Roo and Erik exchanged glances. Neither needed to be reminded of the network of spies already established in the Kingdom by the agents of the Emerald Queen. Distant cousin or not, Roo had no illusions about the man’s honesty. ‘Here and there,’ said Roo.
‘That’s some Isalani open-handed fighting, or I’m a cow’s new-born,’ said Duncan.
‘Where’d you see it before?’ asked Erik.
‘As I said, I just returned from down in the Vale. You see a few Isalani there as well as some other Keshian-born who know the tricks.’ He leaned forward, and his voice lowered. ‘I hear you can crack a man’s skull with your hand if you know how to do it.’
Erik said, ‘That’s easy. Just make sure you’ve got a smith’s hammer in the hand when you hit him.’
Duncan stared at Erik a moment, then burst into laughter. ‘Good one, lad,’ he said as he dug into his meal. ‘I think I’m going to like you.’
They continued to chat as they ate, and after, Erik went to check on the horses. When he returned, the three men retired for the night to the common sleeping area upstairs, so they might get an early start in the morning.
The village seemed at once unchanged and smaller. Roo said, ‘Nothing’s different.’ They rode at a walk, having taken the bend at the road that put them within sight of Ravensburg. They had been passing familiar farms for the last hour, both vineyards and fields of oat, wheat, and corn. But in the distance they now at last were in sight of the small buildings at the edge of the town.
Erik remained silent, but Duncan said, ‘Doesn’t look any different to me and it’s been years.’
Riding past familiar landmarks, Roo thought that he was wrong. Everything had changed, or at least he had changed and therefore how he saw things had changed. Reaching the Inn of the Pintail, Erik said, ‘Few things in Ravensburg ever change, but we have,’ echoing Roo’s thoughts of a few moments before.
Duncan said, ‘That’s always true, I guess.’ Erik had taken a liking to the affable man, and Roo was pleased, for he liked his cousin as well, though he barely trusted him; he was an Avery, and Roo knew what that meant. There had been a distant uncle, John, who had made a terrible reputation for himself as a pirate, long before Roo had been born, and more than half those uncles and cousins who had died since Roo’s birth had been hanged or killed during a robbery attempt. Still, there were a few Averys who had turned a hand toward honest labor, and Roo thought that gave him a chance of getting rich without having to resort to murder or robbery.
As they dismounted, a boy ran from the stable and said, ‘Care for your horses, gentlemen?’
Erik said, ‘Who are you?’
‘Gunther,’ said the boy. ‘I’m the smith’s apprentice, sir.’
Erik tossed the reins to the boy. ‘Is your master about?’ asked Erik.
‘He’s taking his midday meal in the kitchen, sir. Should I fetch him for you?’
Erik said, ‘Never mind, I can find the way.’ The boy took the horses and led them away.
Roo said, ‘Your replacement?’
‘So it seems,’ said Erik shaking his head. ‘He can’t be more than twelve or so.’
‘You were younger when you started helping Tyndal around the forge,’ reminded Roo.
Roo followed Erik as he moved to the rear door, the one that led directly into the kitchen. Erik pushed open the door and stepped through.
Freida, Erik’s mother, sat at the kitchen table talking to Nathan the smith. She looked up as Erik came through the doorway. Her eyes widened and her color drained away. She half stood; then her eyes rolled up into her head and she swooned, caught by the smith before she fell to the floor.
‘Damn me,’ said Nathan. ‘It’s you. It really is.’
Erik hurried around the table and took his mother’s hand. ‘Get some water,’ he instructed Roo.
Roo got a pitcher and filled it from the pump at the sink and brought a clean kitchen rag, which he wet and placed upon Erik’s mother’s brow.
Erik looked across his mother’s still form at the man with whom she had been eating and saw the smith regarding him with amazement in his eyes, which were brimming with tears. ‘You’re alive,’ he said. ‘We didn’t know.’
Erik swore. ‘I’m an idiot.’
Roo took off his travel cloak and sat down, motioning to Duncan to do the same. ‘Rosalyn!’ he shouted. ‘We need wine!’
Nathan shook his head. ‘Rosalyn’s not here. I’ll get us a bottle.’ As he stood, he said, ‘There’s a lot to be talked of, it seems.’
A moment later he returned, with Milo the innkeeper a step behind. The innkeeper said, ‘My gods! Erik! Roo! You’re alive!’
Erik and Roo both exchanged a glance, then Roo said, ‘Well, it was a secret, wasn’t it?’
Nathan said, ‘Are you hunted?’
Roo burst out laughing. ‘No, Master Smith. We are free men, by the King’s own hand. And prosperous ones, as well.’ He jingled his purse significantly.
Nathan pulled the cork of the wine bottle he carried and poured a round of drinks while Freida regained consciousness. She blinked and said, ‘Erik?’
‘Here, Mother.’
She threw her arms around his neck and started to cry. ‘We were told you were tried and convicted.’
‘We were,’ said Erik softly. ‘But we gained our pardon and were set free.’
‘Why did you not send word?’ she asked, a slight note of reproach in her voice. She touched his face as if uncertain of his substance.
‘We couldn’t,’ said Erik. ‘We were in the Prince’s service and’ – he glanced around the room – ‘we were not permitted to let anyone know. But that’s all in the past.’
She shook her head slightly in amazement. She touched his cheek, then kissed it. Resting her head on his shoulder she said, ‘My prayers are answered.’
Nathan said, ‘She prayed, lad.’ He wiped away a tear. ‘We all prayed for you.’
Roo saw that Erik’s own emotions were starting to rise, but Erik forced them down, never having been one to show his feelings openly. Roo took a deep breath, suddenly feeling self-conscious over the moisture gathering in his own eyes.
Erik asked, ‘What of you? How are you?’
Freida sat back and took Nathan’s hand. ‘There have been changes.’
Erik glanced from his mother to the smith. ‘You two?’
Nathan smiled, ‘We wed last summer.’ Then his expression darkened. ‘You’ve no objections, I take it?’
Erik let out a whoop and leaned across the table and seized his stepfather in a bear hug, nearly knocking the wine over; only Roo’s quick reflexes saved it. ‘Objections! You’re the best man I know, Nathan, and if I could have named my father, it would have been you.’ Sitting back he looked at his mother with an unashamed tear rolling down his cheek, then he took her in another bear hug and said, ‘I am so happy for you, Mother.’
Freida blushed like a bride. ‘He came to me and was so sweet when you fled. He saw to my hurt every day, Erik.’ She touched Nathan’s cheek with more tenderness than Erik could ever remember her showing anyone, including himself. ‘He made me care again.’
Slapping his hand on the table, Erik said, ‘We celebrate!’ To Milo he said, ‘I want your best bottle and a meal tonight to embarrass the Empress of Kesh!’
‘Done!’ said Milo, his own eyes glistening with emotion. ‘And I’ll only charge you cost.’
Roo laughed. ‘You haven’t changed, Master Innkeeper.’
‘Where’s Rosalyn?’ said Erik.
Milo and Nathan exchanged glances and Nathan said, ‘She’s with her family, Erik.’
Erik glanced around, not understanding. ‘Family? You’re her father –’
Roo reached over and took his friend’s arm. ‘She’s with her husband, Erik.’ He looked at Milo. ‘Is that what Nathan’s saying, Milo?’
Milo nodded. ‘Aye, and I’m a grandfather, too.’
Erik sat back. His emotions were in turmoil. ‘She’s had a baby?’
Milo looked at Erik. ‘That’s a fact.’
Erik said, ‘Who’s the father?’
Milo glanced around the room and said, ‘She married young Rudolph, the baker’s apprentice; you know him?’ Erik nodded. ‘He’s now a journeyman and will set up his own ovens soon. She’s living with his family, over by the square.’
Erik rose. ‘I know the house. I want to see her.’
Freida said, ‘Go slowly, son. She also thinks you’re dead.’
Leaning over to kiss his mother again, he said, ‘I know. I’ll try not to scare her to death. I want her to come tonight.’ Then he added, ‘With Rudolph.’
Roo said, ‘I’ll go with you.’
Freida squeezed his hand. ‘Don’t be long, else I’ll think this all a dream.’
Erik laughed. ‘Hardly. Roo’s cousin Duncan will charm you with tales wondrous and improbable.’
The cousin smiled. Nathan looked at the handsome Duncan and said, ‘He’ll not be charming her too much, I’m thinking.’
Erik laughed. ‘We’ll be back soon.’
Roo and Erik hurried from the kitchen, through the empty common room of the inn, and out the front door. They hastened down the street that led to the town’s square and hardly noticed those few townspeople who stopped to stare in open amazement at the familiar figures of Rupert Avery and Erik von Darkmoor hurrying along. One man dropped a crock of wine as his eyes widened at the sight of the reputedly dead men striding past. One or two others tried to say something, but Roo and Erik were away before they could give voice to the greeting.
Reaching the town square, they turned and made their way to the bakery where Rudolph worked and lived. At the front door Roo saw Erik hesitate. Roo knew Erik’s feelings for Rosalyn were never simple. She was like a sister to him, but at the same time there was something more. Roo and the others around town knew that Rosalyn was in love with Erik, even if he had been too thick to know. At least, he had been aware just before his departure from Ravens-burg that her feelings for him were more than sisterly. He had talked about it with Roo more than once. And Roo knew that Erik still didn’t really understand how he felt about her.
Suddenly embarrassed by his own hesitation, Erik entered the bakery. Rudolph stood behind the counter, and when he looked up he said, ‘Can I help –’ His eyes widened as he said, ‘Erik? Roo?’
Erik offered a friendly smile. ‘Hello, Rudolph.’ He extended his hand as he crossed the small space between door and counter. Roo followed.
Rudolph had never been what either Roo or Erik would count a friend, though in a town as small as Ravens-burg all the children of similar age know one another. ‘I thought you dead,’ he half whispered, as if afraid to be overheard.
‘That seems to have been the general opinion,’ Roo said. ‘But we were freed by the King.’
‘By the King?’ asked Rudolph, clearly impressed, as he took Erik’s hand and gave it a perfunctory shake. Then he shook with Roo.
‘Yes,’ said Erik. ‘And I’m back.’ When Rudolph’s expression darkened, he quickly added, ‘For a few days. I’m the Prince of Krondor’s man now.’ He pointed to the crest on his tunic. ‘I must be back there before the end of the month.’
Rudolph relaxed. ‘Well then, it’s good to see you.’ He looked Erik up and down. ‘I expect you’ve come to see Rosalyn?’
‘She was a sister to me,’ said Erik.
Rudolph nodded. ‘In the back. Follow me.’
Erik and Roo walked to the end of the counter, where Rudolph lifted the hinged top, and stepped through. They followed Rudolph through the large bakery, past now-cooling ovens that would be heated again after nightfall, as the bakers plied their tasks all night long, so there would be hot bread for sale at first light. Large tables, now cleaned, waited for the bakers, and vats that would hold dough after supper were empty. Rows of clean baking pans waited to be filled, and in the corner two apprentice bakers slept in anticipation of the night’s work ahead.
Rudolph moved to another door and they exited the bakery and crossed a small alley, to a room in a residence that Roo knew belonged to Rudolph’s employer. Rudolph said, ‘Wait here,’ and entered.
A few moments later, Rosalyn appeared at the door, a child upon her left hip. She gripped the doorjamb tightly, while Rudolph stood behind her, offering her support. ‘Erik?’ she half whispered. ‘Roo?’
Erik smiled, and Rosalyn stepped forward and put her right arm around his neck, hugging him fiercely. He held her gently, trying to be aware of the squirming baby, and then he realized she was crying.
‘Here, now,’ he said softly pushing her away. ‘None of that. I’m fine. I did the Prince of Krondor a service and was pardoned for my crime.’
‘Why didn’t you send word?’ she whispered harshly.
Roo was surprised by the anger in her voice toward Erik, but Erik glanced at Rudolph, who nodded at the question.
‘We couldn’t,’ said Erik. He pointed to the crest on his tunic and said, ‘I’m the Prince’s man now, sworn to his service, and I was under oath not to speak of my freedom since’ – he didn’t want to bring up the rape and the trial in Krondor – ‘I left. But now I’m here.’
Rosalyn child started to squirm and complain and she turned to calm the child. ‘Shush, Gerd.’
‘Gerd?’ said Erik.
‘It was my father’s name,’ said Rudolph.
Erik nodded as he looked at the little boy. Then his eyes widened and Roo saw his knees go weak. Roo grabbed Erik’s arm as he gripped the doorjamb.
‘What?’ asked Roo, then he looked again at the little boy. Realization hit him. Rudolph was a stocky, short man, with reddish brown hair. There was nothing of him in this child’s face. But from the expression that showed there, and the size of the child, he knew instantly what had occurred while he and Erik had been gone.
Softly Roo asked what Erik seemed unable to say: ‘Stefan’s?’
Rosalyn nodded. Without taking her eyes from her foster brother’s face she said, ‘Gerd’s your nephew, Erik.’
• Chapter Three • Bargains (#ulink_9804200c-ba95-5a30-a180-a86152e5e7ac)
The baby cried.
Roo laughed as Erik quickly handed him back to Rosalyn. He had offered to hold the boy but the squirming youngster had had Erik looking overwhelmed in less than a minute.
The mood in the room was guarded, a mix of happiness and apprehension. While everyone was pleased to see Roo and Erik alive and well, those in the taproom of the Inn of the Pintail knew that word of Erik’s return would quickly reach his half brother. The Prince of Krondor might have pardoned Roo and Erik for their crime against Erik’s half brother Stefan, but the surviving brother, Manfred, might not. And Stefan’s mother certainly would not. There was a long leap between the letter of the law and its practice when vengeful nobles were involved, everyone knew.
Milo and Nathan motioned Roo aside and Nathan said, ‘Are you planning on staying long?’
Roo glanced to where Erik sat studying his nephew, fascinated by the little life before him. ‘Erik mostly wanted to see his mother and you,’ he said to them. ‘I’ve got some business. We’ll be gone in a week or so.’
Nathan whispered, ‘Better sooner than later, Roo.’
Roo nodded. ‘I know. Mathilda von Darkmoor.’
Milo put his finger alongside his nose and nodded once, indicating Roo was correct in his surmise.
Roo said, ‘But Freida threatened Mathilda’s boys’ inheritance. You’re telling everyone that the baby’s Rudolph’s, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Nathan.
‘But it’s as plain as the nose on your face who his sire is, Roo,’ said Milo, looking fondly across the room at his grandson. ‘There are no secrets in this town. By now the Baron surely knows the baby exists.’
Roo shrugged. ‘Maybe, but I overheard Manfred talking to Erik –’
‘When?’ demanded Nathan, his voice an anxious whisper.
‘In the death cell. The night before we were to be hung. He came and told Erik there was no hard feelings; he said Stefan was a swine.’
Nathan shook his head. ‘One thing to say that to a man you count dead the next day, another to a rival to the title of Baron.’
Roo said, ‘I don’t think that’s a problem. Manfred said there were other bastards, not just Erik. Seems the old Baron loved the ladies.’
Milo nodded. ‘That’s truth. I hear there’s a lad over in Wolfsheim who looks a lot like Erik.’
‘Well,’ said Nathan, ‘see if you can’t get Erik away as soon as possible. We’ll do what we can to protect little Gerd, but if Erik’s presence calls undue attention to the baby …’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Roo. ‘I have business, and the sooner I get it done, the sooner we’ll leave.’
‘Anything we can do to help?’ asked the smith.
A calculating look entered Roo’s eyes. ‘Well, now that you mention it, I could use a reliable wagon – but one that’s not too dear, you understand.’
Milo’s eyes rolled heavenward, and Nathan laughed at the obvious ploy. ‘Gaston’s still the only place you’re likely to find a wagon,’ said the smith.
Erik glanced over to where his friend stood talking to the smith and the innkeeper, the three of them smiling while Nathan laughed at something Roo said, and shook his head with a smile of affection. Roo saw the gesture and returned it, as if to say, ‘Yes, it’s good to be home.’
Roo was out at first light, only slightly hung-over, making his way to the outskirts of town.
‘Gaston!’ he cried as he came into sight of his destination. The building was little more than a run-down barn, made over to a sort of storage building, with a small shed attached to the front. A sign hung over it, crudely painted hammers, crossed as if they were a noble’s swords.
As Roo reached the door to the shop, a head stuck out and a narrow-faced man of indeterminate years regarded him. ‘Avery?’ he exclaimed, half-pleased, half-irritated by his manner. ‘Thought you hung,’ he observed.
Roo stuck out his hand, ‘Wasn’t,’ he replied.
‘Kind of obvious,’ returned the man named Gaston. He spoke with a slight accent, one common to those living in the smaller backwater towns in the province of Bas-Tyra, but he had lived in Darkmoor since before Roo had been born. He shook Roo’s hand and said, ‘What you need?’
Roo said, ‘Got a wagon?’
‘One out back for sale. She not much to look at; need a little work, but she sound.’
They walked around the building, a combination carpentry shed, tannery, and tinker’s shop. Gaston was master of no trade, but adept at fixing all manner of things, and the only source of repair for those without sufficient funds to pay the local smiths and carpenters. If a poor farmer had a scythe that needed to last one more harvest, he brought it to Gaston, not the forge where Erik used to apprentice to old Tyndal and then Nathan. Roo had heard Erik comment that Gaston might not be a fine smith, but he was solid on the basics. And Roo’s father had always taken his wagons to Gaston for repair.
They moved to a low fence, composed mostly from scraps of wood Gaston had found here and there, and Gaston opened the rickety gate. It swung open on stiff, loud hinges, and Roo entered the yard where Gaston stowed most of his property. Roo halted a moment and shook his head. He had been in the yard countless times; nevertheless he was amazed whenever he saw the colossal collection of refuse Gaston lay claim to: scraps of metal, a shed full of cloth, and a huge covered stack of wood, all organized in a fashion known only to Gaston, but one which Roo knew was flawless. If Gaston had what you needed, he knew where it lay, and could put his hands on it in moments.
‘Saw your papa.’
‘Where’s he now?’ asked Roo, not entirely interested.
‘Sleepin’ off a drunk. He came back from a run down to Salador. Six or seven wagons, I don’t remember, but they got there in good order and were paid a bonus, then he picked up a cargo and came back full, so he blew off a bit last night.’
Gaston hiked his thumb over his shoulder to a bundle of rags under one of two wagons nestled against the lee side of the barn. Roo went over and found the bundle was snoring. He recognized one of the two wagons as his father’s. It was as familiar to Roo as his own pallet had been at home. And truth to tell, he had slept in it about as often. When his father got into one of his drunken rages, Roo had often hidden under the canvas tie-down and slept the night there, rather than risk a pointless beating.
‘Too drunk to walk three streets home?’ said Roo, kneeling and pulling back the topmost rag. The stench that struck him as he did made him wish he hadn’t. Not only hadn’t his father bathed in some time, his breath hit Roo full on as he snored in obvious stupor.
‘Gak!’ Roo moved back a couple of steps.
Gaston scratched his chin and said, ‘We had a few, truth to tell. Tom was buying, so I weren’t going to leave him lying there in the street. I bring him over here; I wasn’t going to take him all the way home, by damn.’
Roo shook his head. ‘Not likely.’ He regarded the snoring face of his father. The old man seemed smaller somehow. Roo wondered at that, but knew that he would seem large enough if he was awakened before he bestirred himself.
Then Roo laughed. He wasn’t a boy any longer and his father hadn’t towered over him in years. Roo wondered, if his father tried to strike him again, would he cower as a child would before an enraged parent, or would he act without thought and break his father’s jaw?
Not willing to put that to the test, he said, ‘We’ll let him sleep. He probably didn’t miss me when I was gone, so I doubt he’ll be glad to see me now.’
Gaston said, ‘You shouldn’t go saying that, Roo. He was right enough upset you were going to be hung. Said it more than once. Thought thirty years’ hard labor was fair, he said.’
Roo shook his head and changed the subject. ‘The wagon?’
‘She be over there,’ said Gaston, pointing to the one that sat next to Roo’s father’s. It was a serviceable wagon, though in need of some repair and a lot of paint.
Roo quickly inspected it, ensuring the axles and wheels were sound. He said, ‘We need to replace some of the fittings on the tongue, but it’ll do. How much?’
Gaston and Roo began haggling and after a minute a deal was struck. It was slightly more than Roo wished to pay, but a fair price, and the wagon was exactly what he was looking for. He paid the money and said, ‘Horses?’
‘Martin still be cheapest for sound animals,’ answered Gaston. ‘Your papa got an extra team these days. Won them in a dice game last month.’
A calculating look crossed Roo’s face and he said, ‘Thanks. That’s good to know.’ Glancing at the snoring figure of his father, he said, ‘If he wakes before I return, keep him here. I need to talk to him before I leave town.’
Roo started for the gate and Gaston said, ‘Where are you off to now?’
‘Growers’ and Vintners’ Hall. I have to buy some wine.’
He left the yard and made his way down the street as the town began to stir into the day’s activities. Workers were already at their shops, and now those women heading out to purchase goods and food for their families were also about. Roo nodded in greeting at a few familiar faces, but mostly he was lost in thought about the next step in his plan for wealth.
As he reached the town square, opposite the Growers’ and Vintners’ Hall, a clatter of hooves upon cobbles heralded the approach of riders, and from the sound, Roo knew they were coming fast. A moment later the squad appeared around the corner of the very hall for which Roo was bound, five riders at a canter. Pedestrians scampered out of the way as the five men in the colors of the Baron of Darkmoor hurried by. Roo marked the leader, the same corporal they had encountered in Wilhelmsburg, and he knew instantly where they would eventually stop: Milo’s inn. Roo hesitated and decided against heading directly there. He had business to conduct and, besides, he was pretty sure this would be a matter between Erik and his half brother Manfred. If the Baron needed to speak with Roo Avery, he could come looking for him after he finally found Erik. Roo entered the hall.
Erik stood admiring the forge. Nathan and his apprentice Gunther were showing off the changes they had made since Erik had left. They were minor, but Erik made a point of admiring the boy’s work. It was clear he doted on Nathan and had developed much the same attitude that Erik had toward the smith, that of a boy for a foster-father. Nathan’s own children had been killed in an almost forgotten war and he took special pains to care for his apprentices.
‘You look fit,’ said Nathan. ‘You like the army?’
Erik said, ‘There’s much about it I don’t like, but … yes, I think I like the order, the sense of knowing what is expected of you.’
Nathan motioned with his head for Gunther to find some task to attend to, leaving them alone. ‘And the killing?’
Erik shrugged. ‘Not much. There are times when it’s like hacking wood for the fire. Something you must do. Other times I’m too scared to think. But mostly it’s … I don’t know … ugly.’
Nathan nodded. ‘I’ve worked with a lot of soldiers in my day, Erik. Be cautious of those who enjoy the butchery. They serve when the fighting’s hard, but they’re like guard dogs; better to keep them on a short leash most of the time.’
Erik looked at Nathan and their eyes locked. Then Erik smiled. ‘I promise I’ll never get to liking it.’
‘Then you’ll do,’ said Nathan, returning Erik’s grin. ‘Though you’d have been a fine smith, no doubt.’
‘Smithing is something I still enjoy. Maybe you’ll let me turn a hand to some –’
Roo approached. ‘Nathan! Erik!’
Erik said, ‘How is this mysterious business deal of yours going?’
‘Just about finished,’ answered Roo with a grin. ‘A couple of things more and I’ll be ready to go.’ He made a face. ‘Besides, there are soldiers wandering around town looking for you.’
The sound of riders entering the inn’s courtyard cut short Erik’s reply. They left the forge and rounded the barn, entering the courtyard just as the Baron’s five guardsmen were getting ready to dismount.
Erik recognized the leader, the corporal they had encountered two days before. ‘You,’ he said, pointing to Roo and Erik. ‘The Baron wants a word with you two.’
Roo rolled his eyes heavenward, patting his tunic pocket to ensure he still carried his royal pardon. ‘Can’t this wait?’
‘No! But I’ll give you a choice: ride your own horse or I’ll be happy to drag you behind him.’
Roo said, ‘I’ll get my horse.’
A few minutes later, Roo and Erik were mounted and rode past the squad. The corporal said, ‘Wait a minute! Where do you think you’re going?’
They slowed to let the corporal overtake them, then Erik said, ‘You came cantering in, yet your horses are barely winded and none of them are sweating. So you rode less than a mile to fetch us. Manfred’s camped in the old sheep meadow at the edge of town.’
The corporal looked astonished, but before he could speak, Erik put heels to his horse’s barrel and was off at a canter, Roo a second behind. The squad followed suit, and soon the seven of them were hurrying through the town.
A few minutes later they passed through the buildings at the east edge of town, and as Erik had predicted, they found Manfred’s field tent erected in the old sheep meadow where the King’s Highway intersected the road south.
Erik dismounted and tossed the reins to a guardian standing near the entrance of the tent. As the five riders came up alongside, Erik regarded the corporal. ‘What’s your name?’ asked Erik.
‘Alfred,’ said the corporal. ‘Why?’
Erik smiled. ‘I just wanted to know. Watch the horse.’ Roo and Erik moved to the tent and one of the soldiers there drew aside the flap.
Sitting inside was Erik’s half brother Manfred. ‘I must confess, I never thought I’d see you two again,’ said the Baron, indicating they should sit, ‘considering the circumstances of our last meeting.’
‘At the time, I thought the same,’ answered Erik.
Roo studied the half brothers. Manfred looked nothing like Erik. Erik was the mocking likeness of their father, the very fact of which had driven Manfred’s mother to demand Erik’s death over the murder of Stefan, her elder son. Manfred was his mother’s son. He was dark, intense, and handsome in a nervous way. He wore a neatly trimmed beard, a new affectation, and Roo thought it a little silly, though he kept that opinion to himself.
‘My lord the Duke of Salador, who as you may know is the King’s cousin, has ordered me to send a squad of men to Krondor, for special duty. No details of why or for how long are forthcoming. Do you know something about this?’
Erik nodded. ‘Something.’
‘Will you tell me?’
‘I cannot.’
‘Cannot or will not?’
‘Both,’ said Erik. ‘I am the Prince’s man and obey his injunctions against speaking before I’m bidden.’
‘Well, if you have no objections, I’d like them to return to Krondor with you and your friend.’
Erik sat back. ‘An escort?’
Manfred smiled, and in that one expression there was a hint of the man who sired them both. ‘In a manner of speaking. As you are the Prince’s man in this, I’ll place them under your command. Being the dutiful soldier you are, I have no doubt you’ll hurry to bring them safely to our most noble Prince as quickly as possible.’
Erik leaned forward. ‘If I could tell you, Manfred, I would. You will never know how much it meant to me for you to come see me in jail as you did; it was very kind of you. It made a difference. But when you finally do know why the Prince is commanding this levy, you’ll understand why I may not speak it now, and that it is of the utmost importance.’
Manfred sighed. ‘Well, very good. I trust you’ll not be lingering in Ravensburg, either of you?’
Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m bound to be back at Krondor within the month, but Roo is a free man and may choose to stay.’
Manfred smiled. ‘He may choose what he wishes, but if your friend is wise, he’ll quickly leave.’ He looked at Roo. ‘My mother has not forgiven either of you, and while I will not seek to do either of you injury, I cannot protect you from her agents. If you wish to live to an old age, you better do it elsewhere.’ He leaned over toward Erik, lowering his voice, and lost his smile. ‘You gain a significant protection by wearing that new tunic, Erik. Even here in sleepy Dark-moor we know of the Eagle of Krondor; you’re the Prince’s Man’s man. But your friend Rupert has no patronage and few friends. It’s better for everyone if you take him with you.’
‘I’m getting a cargo together and will be leaving in a couple of days with my cousin,’ said Roo.
Manfred rose. ‘See that you do. It would be well for you both not to be in town when my mother learns you are alive and back within her reach.’ Glancing at the two men, he said, ‘Even in Krondor, watch your backs.’
‘What about the child?’ asked Erik.
Manfred said, ‘Mother still doesn’t know of his existence, and I would like to see it kept that way for as long as possible.’ He looked troubled. ‘It’s a bit of a different story here than it was with you, Erik. The boy is Stefan’s baby, not her philandering husband’s; it’s her own grandson. But he’s a bastard, and as I have yet to wed …’
‘Understood.’
‘Your presence in Ravensburg might push her to side against the child: have you considered that?’
Erik shrugged. ‘Not in that fashion. Truth to tell, Manfred, I’ve not been much of a thinker the last two years. Too much to do. Not enough time to ponder.’
Manfred shook his head and said, ‘You’ve changed. You were the town lad when we met, and now … you’re a harder man, Erik.’
Erik studied his brother’s face. ‘I think we both are.’
Manfred rose and said, ‘I’m “out hunting,” so I’d better have something to show Mother when I return this evening to the castle. Be about your business and expect the levy to appear tomorrow at that inn you called home.’
Erik followed the Baron outside. ‘One of these days I hope we can meet under more favorable circumstances.’
Manfred laughed and again the resemblance showed itself. ‘I doubt it. Our fortunes and fates are very different, brother. As long as you live and I have no children, Mother sees you as a threat to her line. It’s that simple.’
Dryly Roo said, ‘Then get married and have some.’
Manfred said, ‘Would that it were that simple. I serve at the King’s pleasure and my Duke of Salador’s whim. They have yet to indicate to me which noble daughter would prove suitable wife material.’ He sighed slightly, but Erik noticed. ‘And, truth to tell, I haven’t pressed them to decide. I find the company of women … difficult.’
‘Is there someone?’ said Erik, suddenly sensing that his half brother, mostly a stranger to him, barely held some sorrow in check.
Manfred’s manner turned neutral. ‘Nothing of which I choose to speak.’
Erik had nothing more to say and his brother didn’t offer his hand. Erik saluted and started back to where his horse waited. Roo headed toward the tent flap. With a quick move, Erik turned back toward his brother. ‘That corporal, Alfred.’
‘What of him?’
‘Send him with the levy.’
Manfred shook his head and smiled slightly. ‘You have an account with him?’
‘Of sorts,’ said Erik.
Manfred shrugged. ‘There’s not much to recommend the man. He’s a brawler. He’ll never make sergeant because of it.’
‘You have a need for brawlers,’ said Erik. ‘Once they’re broken of brawling, they’re the kind of men we need.’
‘You can have him.’ Turning back into the tent, Manfred vanished.
Roo and Erik returned to their horses and mounted. Erik looked down at Alfred and said, ‘Fare you well, Corporal.’
‘We’ll meet again, bastard,’ said Alfred with a baleful stare.
‘Oh, count on it.’ Erik returned the dark look.
Roo added, with an evil smile, ‘Sooner than you think.’
With heels to their mounts, Roo and Erik left the soldiers behind and returned to Ravensburg.
‘And I’m telling you that if you put any more on that wagon, you’re going to break an axle!’ shouted Tom Avery.
Roo stood nose to nose with his father, who was only slightly taller than his son, and after a moment said, ‘You’re right.’
Tom blinked, then nodded once, curtly, saying, ‘Of course I’m right.’
The two wagons sat in the yard behind Gaston’s shop, loaded with small barrels of wine. Duncan inspected each tie-down carefully, for the third or fourth time, and looked dubious about the prospect of so many barrels of wine remaining secure.
Roo had spent the day conducting business, spending every coin he had as well as what Erik had given him in purchasing a modest-quality wine that, he hoped, would realize him a significant profit once it reached Krondor.
While not an expert on wine, Roo was a child of Ravens-burg and knew more about it than most merchants in Krondor. He knew that the high cost of wine in the Prince’s city was due to the cost of shipping it bottled. Only the most common bulk wine came otherwise, shipped in large barrels. But the smaller barrels of modest-quality wine, used in the taprooms in the area, were never shipped much farther away than a neighboring village, because the wine commanded little profit in an area where high-quality wine was taken for granted. While still not as fine as the great wines served to the nobility, this wine would stand out in Krondor’s common inns. Roo had shrewdly purchased wines he knew to be a cut or two above the quality of what he had drunk in the Prince’s city. Roo calculated that if he could get the inns and taverns frequented by the businessmen of the Merchants’ Quarter to buy his wine, he could realize as much as a threefold profit on this venture, including the cost of wagons and horses.
Duncan said, ‘You sure you know how to drive this thing?’
Tom wheeled to face his nephew and said, ‘Roo’s a first-rate teamster, as you’d have been had you not run off after that girl –’
Duncan smiled in remembrance. ‘Alice,’ he supplied. ‘That didn’t last long. Besides’ – he put his hand upon the pommel of his sword – ‘this is how I earned my living for the last fifteen years.’
‘Well, we’ll need it,’ said Tom, rubbing his chin. It was the spot Roo had hit him when the old man had come awake and started to bully his son. Three times he had tried to lay hands on the boy and three times had found himself in the dust, looking up at his son. The last time Roo had punctuated his lack of patience for this conflict with a stiff right jab to the old man’s face. After that, Tom Avery looked on his son with a newfound respect. Turning to Roo, he said, ‘You sure you know your way along this road you told me of?’
Roo nodded. It was a backcountry road, little more than a trail in places, where he and Erik had encountered Helmut Grindle, a trader from Krondor. Roo had learned there was a way from Ravensburg to Krondor that was passable without having to pay toll on the King’s Highway. Erik had papers from the Prince, which had saved them any charges on the way to Ravensburg, but Erik and his company of levies from Darkmoor had left that morning for Krondor, and they would be in the Prince’s city a week before the slow-moving wagons would arrive.
Roo knew that the wagons were loaded to capacity, and that any trouble would leave half his cargo stuck in the backwoods between Darkmoor and the coast. But if his plan worked, he’d have enough capital for something more audacious, and he was sure he could make enough on this one journey to get his career fairly launched.
‘Well,’ said Roo, ‘no reason to linger. The sooner started, the sooner finished.’ He said nothing of Manfred’s warning about his mother’s vengeance. He didn’t trust Duncan enough to count on his staying close by should he learn that a noble might be sending agents after Roo. His father, he knew, could be trusted to drive his wagon: say what you might about Tom Avery, he was steadfast in his work when sober. But in a fight he would be useless, no matter what bluster and boasting he indulged himself in when drunk. ‘Ride with me,’ Roo said to Duncan. ‘I’ll reacquaint you with driving a team.’
Duncan rolled his eyes heavenward but climbed aboard. He had sold his horse for a small price, which earned him a share in Roo’s venture, and now was a minority owner of one wagon, four horses, and a great deal of wine. Roo’s father had insisted only on his usual fees, not a coin more or less, which silently pleased Roo. He enjoyed his father’s treating him as he would any other trader.
Gaston waved farewell as they rolled through the gate out of his yard and turned down the cobbles of Ravensburg. The wagons creaked and groaned under the weight and the horses snorted at being asked to work, but they were under way, and Roo felt a keen sense of anticipation.
‘Try not to get yourself killed,’ called out Gaston as the gate shut.
Roo ducked behind the wagon as another arrow sped through the space he had just occupied; the first had struck inches from his head. He yelled a warning to his father and Duncan as he scrambled under the wagon, drawing his sword and trying to ascertain from where the arrow had come. A third shaft emerged from the evening gloom and he marked where he judged it had originated. He signaled to Duncan that he was going to back between the wagons and move in a circle around the ambushers. Duncan signaled he understood and motioned around the campsite, indicating he should be wary of other attackers.
They had been on the road for almost a week, having left the King’s Highway just west of Ravensburg and making their way across open country to the small westward trail road Roo and Erik had used when fleeing the area two years earlier.
The travel had been uneventful and the wagons were proving sturdy and the horses sound, which had contributed to Roo’s increasing optimism as the days passed. If his father had judged him daft for picking a large, unwieldy cargo, he kept his opinion to himself. He was an old teamster and had driven stranger cargo than dozens of small wine casks before.
They camped each night at sundown, letting the horses graze along a picket, supplementing the grass with a small amount of grain, mixed with honey and nuts, which kept them fit and energetic. Each day Roo used what knowledge of horses he possessed to check their soundness, and more than once he had silently wished for Erik’s presence, as he would find anything that Roo might miss. But Roo had been astonished to discover that his father knew as much as Erik, at least on the subject of draft animals, and each day the old man inspected right alongside his son, and each day he judged the animals fit to continue the journey.
Now Roo crab-crawled on elbows and knees, turning as he moved between the wagons, and when he had the wagons between himself and the source of the arrow fire, he stood and ran into the woods. Only two years of combat and intense training saved his life, for another bandit had moved opposite the first and tried to impale Roo on his sword point. The only thing he accomplished was to die silently; Roo hardly broke stride as he ran him through, dodging sideways into the dark woods in case there was another bandit close by.
Silence greeted him as he paused to consider his next move. He slowed his breathing and looked around. The sun had set less than an hour before and the sky to the west might still hold some glow, but under the thick trees it could have been midnight. Roo listened. A moment later he heard another arrow flight, and he moved.
Circling as quietly as he could through the darkness, he ran swiftly to the place where he thought the bowman might be hiding. At this point he was convinced he was being besieged by a pair of poor bandits, trying to pick off the two guards so they could plunder whatever cargo ventured along the small road far from the King’s justice.
Roo waited. After a few more moments of silence, he heard someone stirring in the brush ahead of him and he acted. As quick as a cat on a mouse, he was through the brush and on top of the other bandit. The struggle was quickly over. The man attempted to drop his bow and pull a knife when he sensed Roo’s approach from behind.
The man died before the knife was out of his belt.
‘It’s over,’ said Roo.
A moment later, Duncan and Tom appeared, wraithlike in the gloom. ‘Just two of them?’ asked Duncan.
‘If there’s another, he’s halfway to Krondor,’ said Tom. He had obviously fallen hard, as he was dirty from boot to the top of his head on his left side, and he had a bruise on his left cheek. He held his right arm across his chest, holding tight to his left biceps, and flexed the fingers of his left hand.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Roo.
‘Fell damn hard on this arm, I guess,’ answered his father. ‘It’s all tingly and numb.’ He seemed short of breath as he spoke. Blowing out a long note, he added, ‘Some time of it, that was. Not ashamed to admit I was scared for a bit.’
Duncan knelt and rolled over the bandit. ‘This one looks like a ragpicker,’ he said.
‘Few honest traders and only a few more dishonest ones brave this route,’ said Tom. ‘Never been a rich outlaw I heard of, and certainly not around here.’ He shook his hand as if trying to wake up a sleeping limb.
Duncan came away with a purse. ‘He might not have been rich, but he wasn’t coinless, either.’ He opened the purse and found a few copper coins and a single stone. Walking back into the light of the campfire, he knelt to inspect the gem. ‘Nothing fancy, but it’ll fetch a coin or two.’
Roo said, ‘Better see if the other is dead.’
He found the first man he had encountered lying facedown in the mud, and when he rolled him over, discovered a boy’s face on the corpse. Shaking his head in disgust, Roo quickly found the boy without even the rude leather pouch the other bandit had possessed.
He returned to the wagons as Duncan put down the bow he had taken from the first bandit. ‘Pretty poor,’ he said, tossing it aside. ‘Ran out of arrows.’ Roo sat down with an audible sigh.
‘What do you think they’d be doing with all this wine?’ asked Duncan.
‘Probably drink a bit,’ said Tom. ‘But it was the horses and whatever coin we carry, and the swords you have and anything else they could sell.’
Duncan said, ‘We bury them?’
Roo shook his head. ‘They’d not have done the same for us. Besides, we’ve no shovel. And I’m not about to dig their graves with my hands.’ He sighed. ‘If they’d been proper bandits, we’d have been feeding the crows tomorrow instead of them. Better keep alert.’
Duncan said, ‘Well then, I’m turning in.’
Tom and Roo sat before the fire. Because of his age, Roo and Duncan allowed Tom the first watch. The man with the second had it roughest, having to awake for a few hours in the dark, then turn in again. Roo also knew that dawn was the most dangerous time for attack, as guards were the sleepiest and least alert and anyone contemplating a serious assault would wait for just before sunrise. Chances were near-certain if Tom had morning watch, should trouble come he’d be sound asleep when he died.
Tom said, ‘Had a stone like that one Duncan’s got, once.’
Roo said nothing. His father rarely talked to him, a habit that had developed in childhood. Rupert had traveled with his father many times as a boy, learning the teamster’s trade, but on the longest of those journeys, from Ravens-burg to Salador and back, he’d rarely had more than ten words for the boy. When at home, Tom drank to excess, and when working, remained sober but stoic.
‘I got it for your mother,’ said Tom quietly.
Roo was riveted. If Tom was a quiet man when sober, he was always silent about Roo’s mother, sober or drunk. Roo knew what he did about his mother from others in the village, for she had died in childbirth.
‘She was a tiny thing,’ said Tom. Roo knew his diminutive status was a legacy from his mother. Erik’s mother had mentioned that more than once. ‘But strong,’ said Tom.
Roo found that surprising. ‘She had a tough grit to her,’ continued Tom, his eyes shining in the firelight. ‘You look like her, you know.’ He held his right arm across his chest, clutching his left arm, which he massaged absently. He peered into the fire as if seeking something in the dancing flame.
Roo nodded, afraid to speak. Since he had struck his father, knocking him to the ground, the old man had treated him with a deference Roo had never experienced before. Tom sighed. ‘She wanted you, boy. The healing priest told her it would be chancy, with her being so tiny.’ He wiped his right hand over his face, then looked at his own hands, large, oft scarred, and calloused. ‘I was afraid to touch her, you know, with her being so small and me having no gentleness in me. I was afraid I’d break her. But she was tougher than she looked.’
Roo swallowed, suddenly finding it hard to speak. He finally whispered, ‘You never speak of her.’
Tom nodded. ‘I had so little joy in this life, boy. And she was every bit of it. I met her at a festival, and she looked like this shy bird of a thing, standing on the edge of the crowd at the feast of Midsummer. I had just come up from Salador, driving a wagon for my uncle, Duncan’s grandfather. I was half-drunk and full of myself, and then she was right there before me, bold as bright brass, and she says, “Dance with me."’ He sighed. ‘And I did.’
He was silent awhile. He hugged himself, and his breath seemed labored, and he had to swallow hard to speak. ‘She had that same look you do, not fetching with her thin face and uneven teeth, until she smiled – then she lit up and was beautiful. I got her that stone I was speaking of for our wedding. Had it set in a ring for her.’
‘Like a noble,’ said Roo, forcing his voice to a lighter tone.
‘Like the Queen herself,’ Tom answered with a shallow laugh. He swallowed hard. ‘She said I was mad and should sell it for a new wagon, but I insisted she keep it.’
‘You never told me,’ said Roo softly.
Tom shrugged and was silent. He took a deep breath, then said, ‘You’re a man now. Showed me that when I woke to find you standing over me at Gaston’s. Never thought you’d amount to much, but you’re a shrewd one, and if you can beat the King’s own hangman, and learn to handle yourself so I can’t bully you, why, I figure you’ll turn out all right down the road.’ Tom smiled slightly and said, ‘You’re like her that way; you’re tougher than you look.’
Roo sat in silence a minute, not knowing what to say, then after a bit he said, ‘Why don’t you turn in, Father. I have some thinking to do.’
Tom nodded. ‘I think I will. Got a pain in my neck.’ He moved his left shoulder as if to loosen tight muscles. ‘Must have really twisted it hitting the ground when those lads started shooting arrows at us. Hurts from my wrist to my jaw.’ He wiped perspiration from his brow. ‘Broke a bit of sweat, too.’ He sucked in a large breath and blew it out, as if just standing had been exertion. ‘Getting too old for this. When you get rich, you remember your old father, hear me, Roo?’
Roo started to smile and say something when his father’s eyes rolled up into his head and he fell forward, facedown into the fire. Roo yelled, ‘Duncan!’ and with a single move yanked his father out of the flames.
Duncan was over in an instant and saw the waxy pallor of Tom’s face, the white eyes, and smoldering burns on his cheek and neck. He knelt next to Roo, then said, ‘He’s dead.’
Roo remained motionless as he silently regarded the man who had been his father, and who had died still a stranger to him.
• Chapter Four • Setback (#ulink_d202d132-d02b-5512-91a8-45c1e0994394)
Roo signaled.
Duncan reined in the second wagon, coming to a halt behind the first. Roo turned, stood, and shouted, ‘Krondor!’
They had been traveling this way since burying Tom, in a grave Roo had dug with his bare hands, covering him with stones to keep scavengers away. Duncan had become a fair driver. He had remembered a few things taught to him by Tom when he was a boy, and Roo had increased his skill until he no longer had to spend every minute worrying about the second wagon and its cargo.
Roo was still troubled by his father’s death. He couldn’t escape the feeling that he had glimpsed something in his father when he had been speaking about Roo’s mother. Roo knew there was a great deal about his own history he didn’t understand. His father had always been an aloof man when sober and abusive when drunk, and in part Roo now understood why: each time Tom looked at his son he saw a reminder of the wife he had loved beyond measure, taken from him at Roo’s birth.
But there had been more, and Roo now had dozens of questions, none of which his father would ever answer. He vowed to return to Ravensburg and try to find those few people in the town Tom might have called friend, to ask them those questions. Perhaps he might travel to Salador to visit with Duncan’s branch of the family. But he wanted answers. Suddenly Roo had been made aware that he really didn’t know who he was. Pushing aside that thought, he insisted to himself it wasn’t as important who one is as who one becomes, and he was determined to become a rich, respected man.
Duncan tied off the reins and jumped down from his wagon, walking to where Roo stood. Roo had come to like his cousin, though there was still the rogue in his manner, and Duncan didn’t bring out any strong sense of trust, the way Roo trusted Erik or the other men he had served with under Calis. But he liked the man and thought he might be useful, for he had enough experience with nobility to tutor Rob in manners and fashion.
Duncan climbed up on the first wagon and looked at the distant city. ‘We’re going in tonight?’ he asked.
Roo glanced at the setting sun and said, ‘I don’t think so. I’d have to find a stable yard to house this wine until we could move out in the morning. We’re still more than an hour from the gate now. Let’s make a camp and we’ll head in at first light, try to sell some of this before the inns get too busy.’
They made camp and ate a cold meal before a small fire, while the horses, tied in a long picket, grazed along the roadside. Roo had given them the last of the grain and they were making satisfied noises. ‘What are you going to do with the wagons?’ asked Duncan.
‘Sell them, I think.’ Roo wasn’t sure if he wanted to depend on other shippers, but he didn’t think his time was best spent actually driving the wagons back and forth between Ravensburg and Krondor. ‘Or maybe hire a driver and send you back for another load after we sell off this lot.’
Duncan shrugged. ‘Not much by way of excitement, unless you count those two hapless boy bandits.’
Roo said, ‘One of those “boy bandits” almost put an arrow through my head’ – he tapped the side of his skull – ‘if you remember.’
‘There is that.’ Duncan sighed. ‘I mean by way of women and drink.’
‘We’ll have some of that tomorrow night.’ Roo glanced around. ‘Turn in – I’ll take the first watch.’
Duncan yawned. ‘I won’t argue.’
Roo sat by the fire as his cousin grabbed a blanket and crawled under one of the wagons to protect himself from the dew that would form during the night. This close to the ocean it wasn’t a possibility, it was a certainty, and waking up wet wasn’t either man’s idea of a pleasant way to start the day.
Roo considered what he would do first in the morning, and made up several speeches, rehearsing each and discarding this phrase or that as he tried to determine which sales pitch would work best. He had never been a focused thinker in his youth, but so much was riding on his doing well that he became lost in his thinking, and didn’t realize how much time had passed until he noticed the fire burning down. He considered waking Duncan, but decided instead to reconsider some of his sales pitch, and just stuck some more wood in the fire.
He was still practicing his pitch when the lightening sky finally took his attention from the now merely glowing embers of the fire and he shook himself out of his half-daze, half-dreaming, and he realized that he had not truly slept all night. But he was too filled with excitement and too ready to rush forward into his new life and he figured Duncan wouldn’t object to the extra rest. He rose, and found his knees stiff from sitting in the damp, cool night air without moving for hours. His hair was damp, and dew shone upon his cloak as he shook it out.
‘Duncan!’ he yelled, rousing his cousin. ‘We’ve got wine to sell!’
The wagons clattered over the cobbles of Krondor’s streets. Roo indicated Duncan should pull up behind him, over to one side, allowing some room for traffic to pass on the narrow side street. He had picked out his first stop, a modest inn named the Happy Jumper near the edge of the Merchants’ Quarter. The sign was of a pair of children turning a rope for a third who was suspended in midair over it.
Roo pushed open the door and found a quiet common room, with a large man behind the bar cleaning glasses. ‘Sir?’ the barman asked.
‘Are you the proprietor?’ asked Roo.
‘Alistair Rivers at your disposal. How may I be of service?’ He was a portly man, but under the fat Roo detected strength – most innkeepers had to have some means of enforcing order. His manner was polite, but distant, until he knew the nature of Roo’s business.
‘Rupert Avery,’ said Roo, sticking out his hand. ‘Wine merchant in from Ravensburg.’
The man shook his hand in a perfunctory manner and said, ‘You need rooms?’
‘No, I have wine to sell.’
The man’s expression showed a decided lack of enthusiasm. ‘I have all the wine I need, thank you.’
Roo said, ‘But of what quality and character?’
The man looked down his nose at Roo and said, ‘Make your pitch.’
‘I was born in Ravensburg, sir,’ began Roo. And then he launched into a brief comparison of the bounties of that small town’s wine craft and what was commonly drunk in Krondor’s more modest establishments.
At the end of his pitch he said, ‘The service to Krondor has either been bulk wine for the common man or impossibly priced wine for the nobles, but nothing for the merchant catering to a quality clientele, until now. I can provide wine of superior quality at bulk prices, because I don’t transport the bottles!’
The man was silent a minute. ‘You have a sample?’ he asked at last.
‘Outside,’ said Roo and he hurried out to fetch down a sample cask he had filled before leaving Ravensburg. Returning inside he found a pair of glasses on the bar. He pulled the cork, and as he filled the two glasses with a taste, he said, ‘It’s a bit shocked, having rolled in this very morning off the road, but give it a week or two to rest before you serve it, and you’ll have more business than any other inn in the area.’
The man looked unconvinced, but he tasted. He rolled the wine around his palate, then spit it into a bucket, while Roo did the same. Alistair was quiet again, then said, ‘It’s not bad. A little jumbled, as you said from the road, but there’s some structure there and abundant fruit. Most of my customers won’t know it from the usual plonk, but I do have a few businessmen who frequent my establishment who might find this diverting. I might be interested in a half-dozen barrels. What is your price?’
Roo paused, and quoted a price he knew to be three times what he would accept, and only 15 percent below what the finest noble wines from Ravensburg would fetch. Alistair blinked, then said, ‘Why not burn my inn to the ground and have done with it? You’ll ruin me far quicker.’ He offered a price that was a few coppers less per barrel than what Roo had paid in Ravensburg. Then they began haggling in earnest.
They were waiting for Roo when he came out of the third inn an hour after midday. His first two negotiations had proven profitable, earning him more than he had anticipated. He had gotten about 10 percent higher a price from Alistair Rivers than he had hoped for, which had made him bargain harder at the Inn of Many Stars. His final price had been within coppers of what he had sold wine to Alistair for, so he knew what he was likely to get at the Dog and Fox Tavern. He had concluded his negotiations in quick order, and as he came out of the Dog and Fox he said, ‘Duncan! We need to unload five barrels!’
Then he halted. Duncan moved his head slightly to indicate the man sitting close to him on the wagon, who had a dagger point in Duncan’s ribs, though you had to look to notice it. To passersby it appeared he was merely having a quiet conversation with the driver of the wagon.
Another man stepped up and said, ‘You the owner of these wagons?’
Roo nodded once as he studied the man. He was rangy to the point of gauntness, but there was quickness and danger in his movements. Roo saw no weapons in the man’s hands, but guessed there was more than one of them secreted on him, within easy reach. His narrow face was covered by a two- or three-day growth of beard, and grey-shot, raggedly cut black hair hung loosely about his forehead and neck.
‘We was noticing you driving around and making deliveries. Wondered if you were new to Krondor?’
Roo glanced from the man’s face to the man next to Duncan, then looked around to see if the two were alone. A couple of others lingered in close proximity to the wagons, men who could aid their companions in moments, without calling attention to themselves until needed. Roo said, ‘Been here before, but just rolled into the city this morning.’
‘Ah!’ said the man, his voice surprisingly deep for one so thin. ‘Well then, you’d not be knowing about the local licenses and duties, would you?’
Roo’s gaze narrowed. ‘We declared our cargo at the gate to the Prince’s magistrate, and nothing was said about licenses and duties.’
‘Well, these aren’t the Prince’s licenses and duties, in a manner of speaking.’ The man lowered his voice so he would not be overheard. ‘There are ways to do business in the city and there are other ways, if you catch my drift. We represent interests that would seek to keep you from encountering difficulties in Krondor, if you follow me.’
Roo leaned against the back of the wagon, attempting to look casual, while judging how fast he could kill this man if needs be and what chance Duncan stood of disarming the man who held a dagger on him. Of the first he was confident; he could kill this man before his companions could take two steps in his aid, but Duncan didn’t have Roo’s combat training, and while a competent swordsman, he would probably die. Roo said, ‘I’m very stupid today. Pretend I don’t know anything and educate me.’
The man said, ‘Well, there are those of us in Krondor who like to make sure the daily commerce of the city goes undisturbed, if you see what I mean. We don’t care much for unseemly price wars and large fluctuations between supply and demand. Toward that end, we make sure that everything coming into the city has a reasonable profit, so that no one has too much an advantage, don’t you see? Keeps things civilized. We also keep thugs from roughing up merchants and destroying property, as well as make sure that a man can sleep in his bed at night without fear of having his throat cut, don’t you see? Now, to that end, we expect a compensation for our work.’
Roo said, ‘I see. How much?’
‘For your cargo, it would be twenty golden sovereigns’ – Roo’s eyes widened – ‘for each wagon.’
That was easily close to one half his expected profit on this cargo alone. His outrage couldn’t be kept below the surface. ‘Are you mad? Twenty sovereigns!’ He took a quick step back and said, ‘I think not!’
The man took a step after Roo, which he had anticipated, saying, ‘If you want your friend there to stay health –’
Suddenly Roo had his sword out and at the man’s throat before he could move away. The man was quick and tried to move back, but Roo followed, keeping the point of his sword touching skin. ‘Ah, ah!’ said Roo. ‘Don’t move too quickly; I might slip and then you’d get blood over everything. If your friend doesn’t get his dagger out of my cousin’s ribs or if either one of those two men across the street makes the wrong move, you’re sucking wind through a new hole.’
‘Hold on!’ shouted the man. Then, glancing sideways without moving his head, he shouted, ‘Bert! Get down!’
The man next to Duncan got down without question, while the man whom Roo held at sword’s point said, ‘You’re making a big mistake.’
‘If I am, it’s not the first,’ said Roo.
‘Cross the Sagacious Man and it’s the last,’ said the would-be extortionist.
‘Sagacious Man?’ said Roo. ‘Who would that be?’
‘Someone important in this city,’ answered the thin man. ‘We’ll mark this a misunderstanding, and you ask about. But when we come back tomorrow, I’ll expect better manners from you.’
He motioned for his two distant companions to leave and they quickly darted into the midday crush of people. Other pedestrians had stopped to watch the display of one man holding another at sword’s point, and it was obvious the thin man didn’t care for the scrutiny. A merchant looked out from his shop and started shouting for a city constable.
Glancing at Roo the man said, ‘If I’m handed over to the City Watch, you’re in even bigger trouble than you might be already.’ He licked his lips nervously. A shrill whistle sounded a block away, and Roo dropped his sword’s point and the man ducked away, vanishing into the crowd.
‘What was that?’ asked Duncan.
‘Shakedown.’
Duncan said, ‘Mockers.’
‘Mockers?’
‘Guild of Thieves,’ supplied Duncan as he patted his ribs to make sure they were still intact.
‘I expect. He mentioned someone named the Sagacious Man.’
‘That’s the Mockers, without a doubt. You can’t do business in a city like Krondor without having to pay off someone.’
Roo climbed aboard his own wagon and said, ‘Damn me if I will.’
If Duncan had an answer, Roo didn’t hear it as he untied the rope holding down the barrels and lowered the drop gate. A shout and men running down the street caused Roo to glance past the wagon to where members of the City Watch, wearing blue tunics and carrying large billy clubs, paused to see the merchant pointing at Roo.
Roo swore under his breath. The constable approached and said, ‘That gentleman tells me you was dueling in the street.’
Roo tossed a rope to Duncan. ‘Dueling? Me? Sorry, but he’s mistaken. I’m just unloading wine for this inn.’ He turned his chin toward the inn, as Duncan came down to help get the barrels off the top of the wagon.
‘Well then,’ said the constable, obviously unwilling to go searching for trouble when it was so abundant in Krondor, ‘just see it stays that way.’ He motioned for his partner and they returned the way they came.
Duncan said, ‘Some things never change. Unless I miss my bet, those two will be back in whatever pastry shop they were in when the whistle blew.’
Roo laughed. They lowered the five barrels to the street, and Roo convinced the innkeeper to send a worker to help Duncan carry them inside, so Roo could protect the wagons while the wine was delivered. After the remaining cargo was secured, they took reins and moved on to the next tavern.
At sundown, they had sold close to a third of the wine Roo had purchased in Ravensburg. More, they had recouped almost all the gold Roo had spent. Roo calculated that he stood to triple his money if business the next day or so was as brisk as it had been so far.
‘Where do we spend the night?’ asked Duncan. ‘And when do we eat? I’m starving.’
Roo said, ‘Let us find an inn with a good-sized yard so we can guard this wine against our friends.’
Duncan nodded, knowing full well whom Roo meant. They were in an area of the city unknown to Duncan, who had been to Krondor a number of times over the years, and from the wares displayed in the shop windows as they passed, not a terribly prosperous one. Roo said, ‘Let’s go around the block and head back the way we came. I think we’re leaving prosperity behind if we continue on this way.’
Duncan nodded and watched as Roo headed his team out into the traffic of the road. The street was full of travelers as those finished with the day’s work headed home, or to a local tavern or shop. Some shops were being shuttered, while others were lighting lanterns, indicating their proprietors were staying open past dark for those customers who could only shop in the evening.
They moved slowly through the press and Roo turned right into another street, and Duncan followed. It took them almost an hour to find an inn with a stable area big enough to accommodate their wagons behind locked gates. Roo made arrangements with the stableboy, took his sample cask, and led Duncan inside.
The inn was known as the Seven Flowers, and it was a modest establishment, catering to merchants and workers equally. Roo found a table near the bar and indicated Duncan should take a seat. He spied an interesting-looking barmaid, a little long in the face but with an ample spread of bosom and hip, and he said, ‘When you have a minute, if you’d bring us both a tankard of ale and dinner.’ He indicated the table where Duncan sat. The woman looked at the handsome Duncan and her smile betrayed her interest. Roo found his eyes fixed upon the woman’s bosom where it strained against the fabric of her dress and said, ‘And if you’re free at the end of the evening, join us.’ He tried his best to look charming, and the remark got him a neutral expression and a noncommittal noise. ‘Where’s the owner?’ asked Roo.
She indicated a heavyset man at the far end of the bar, and Roo made his way through a half-dozen customers and started his pitch. After providing samples of his wine and arguing price, Roo arrived at a price with the owner of the inn, including a night’s lodging and food, and returned to the table.
The food was average but ample and after weeks on the trail tasted wonderful. The ale was also average, but cold and plentiful. After the meal, when business had thinned, Duncan started working his charms on the serving girl, a woman of middle years named Jean. Another barmaid, a thin young woman named Betsy, joined them and somehow ended up sitting in Roo’s lap. Either Duncan was terribly funny in his storytelling or the ale gave everyone a more forgiving sense of humor. A couple of times the innkeeper had had to come over and order his barmaids back to work, but as the evening wore on, the two women had found their way back to Roo and Duncan’s company.
The pairing was obvious: Duncan had captured the attention of both women, but Jean, the more attractive of the two, had staked her claim early on, while Betsy was content to spend her time with Roo’s hand fondling her. Roo didn’t know if the girl really liked him or expected recompense, but he didn’t care. The soft heat of flesh under cloth had him aroused, and after a while he said, ‘Let’s go upstairs.’
The girl said nothing but rose and took his hand and led him upstairs. In his drunken state he didn’t remember hearing Duncan and Jean entering the room with them, but soon he was lost in the feel, smell, taste, and heat of being with a woman.
He was vaguely aware of Duncan and Jean on the pallet next to the one he shared with Betsy, but he ignored them. He had been with whores in camp less than a hand’s breadth from other soldiers, so he thought nothing of it.
He got out of his clothing and got Betsy out of hers in quick order, and was lost in passion when a shout came from outside followed by the sound of cracking wood. He almost didn’t notice it at first, but another crack followed, and suddenly, before thought was his, he was on his feet, pulling his sword from the scabbard, yelling, ‘Duncan!’
Naked, Roo raced down the stairs and into the common room. Deserted and dark, the room was an obstacle course as Roo tried to get to the inn’s courtyard door without laming himself on a chair or table. Duncan’s oaths from behind told Roo he wasn’t alone in his drunken difficulties.
Roo found the door, pulled it open, and hurried toward the stable where his horses were being cared for and his wagons were housed. His feet encountered wetness as his nose greeted him with a familiar aroma: wine.
He entered the dark barn cautiously, his intoxication gone with the rush of battle readiness. Duncan overtook him and Roo gripped his cousin by the arm, signaling in the dark to move to the side of the barn aisle. Something was wrong and Roo couldn’t put his finger on what that was until he saw the first horse. The animal lay on the ground, blood pooling from its neck. Quickly he took an inventory and found all four of his horses had been killed, their necks cut in exactly the right place to bleed them as fast as possible.
‘Oh, damn!’ said Duncan, and Roo hurried to find the stableboy lying in his own blood.
They dashed to the wagons and found that every barrel had been stove in or had the bung pulled, so that wine flooded the courtyard. The cracking of wood that Roo had heard had been someone using a large hammer on the spokes of the wheels, so that the wagons were now useless without expensive repair.
The innkeeper came hurrying across the courtyard when he saw the two naked men holding their swords.
‘What’s afoot?’ he asked, halting, as if afraid to approach these two strange apparitions any more closely. From his nightshirt it was clear he had turned in.
‘Someone’s killed your stableboy and my horses, and ruined my wagons and cargo,’ said Roo.
Abruptly a scream cut the night and Roo was running past the innkeeper before Duncan could react. Roo almost flew through the door to the inn, banging against a table, and took the stairs two at a time. He reached the room he and Duncan shared and took a half-step in, his sword leveled.
He faltered as Duncan came running up the stairs. Duncan looked over the shoulder of his shorter cousin and again he said, ‘Damn.’
Jean and Betsy lay upon the two pallets, their vacant gaze telling both men they were dead before the men could see the dark spreading stains flowing from where their throats had been cut. Whoever had come through the window had taken the two women from behind, killing them quickly and pulling them back on the mats. Roo was suddenly aware he was standing in something sticky and warm and realized the women had probably come to the door after the men had raced out, only to die before they realized someone had entered the room from the window.
Then Roo realized his clothing was strewn around the room. He quickly searched, and as the innkeeper arrived, Roo looked at Duncan and said, ‘They took the gold.’
Duncan seemed almost to go limp as he leaned against the doorjamb. ‘Damn,’ he said for a third time.
The constable of the City Watch was obviously anxious to be done with his investigation. He looked at the dead horses and the dead stableboy, and went into the inn to inspect the dead barmaids, and then asked Roo and Duncan a few questions. It was also obvious that he knew the Mockers were involved and this would be reported in as an ‘unsolved crime.’ Unless someone was caught in the act, finding criminals and proving guilt was a rare event in a city the size of the capital of the Western Realm. As the constable left he instructed them to report anything they discovered that might help solve the crime to the office of the City Watch, at the palace.
The innkeeper was devastated by the death of his three employees and voiced his fear that he was somehow slated to join them. He ordered Roo and Duncan out of his inn at first light and then barricaded himself in his room.
As the dawn came, Roo and Duncan walked out of the courtyard of the Inn of the Seven Flowers. The early morning press of business hadn’t begun, but already workers were moving toward their places of employment. As they entered the street, Duncan asked, ‘What now?’
Roo said, ‘I don’t know –’ He inhaled as he spied a familiar figure across the street. Lounging against the wall of the building opposite them was the thin man from the day before. Roo crossed the street, almost knocking down a hurrying workman, and as he reached the man, he heard him say, ‘Quietly now, stranger, else my friends will have to shoot you.’
Duncan overtook Roo in time to hear the remark and spun around, looking for the bowman. On the rooftop above, a bowman had an arrow drawn hard against his cheek, aimed in their direction. The thin man said, ‘I expect you now understand just the sort of troubles we can protect you from, don’t you?’
‘If I thought I stood a chance of not getting my cousin shot in the bargain,’ said Roo, his anger barely held in check, ‘I’d cut your liver out right now.’
‘Like to see you try,’ said the thin man. ‘You caught me by surprise yesterday, but it would never happen again.’ He then smiled, and there was nothing friendly in the expression. ‘Besides, there’s nothing personal in this, lad. It’s only business. Next time you seek to do business in Krondor, let those who can help you … help you.’
‘Why did you kill the boy and the girls?’ asked Roo.
‘Kill? Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said the man. ‘Ask anyone and they’ll tell you that Sam Tannerson was playing pokiir at Mama Jamila’s in the Poor Quarter all night long. Did someone go and get themselves killed?’ He made a signal and moved away, saying, ‘When you’re ready to try doing business again, ask around. Sam Tannerson isn’t hard to find. And he’s always willing to help.’ He quickly moved off into the press of traffic and vanished from sight.
After a moment Roo asked again, ‘Why did they kill the girls and the stableboy?’
Duncan said, ‘My guess is that if you’re too stubborn to pay them, they’re making sure everyone else knows the price of doing business with you.’
Roo said, ‘I’ve only felt more helpless once in my life, and that was when they were about to hang me.’
Duncan had heard the story of how Roo and his friend Erik had been reprieved from the gallows after a mock hanging. ‘Well, you may not be dead, as they say, but what will we do?’
Roo said, ‘Start over. What else is there to do?’ Then he added, ‘But first we head for the palace, and the office of the City Watch.’
‘What for?’
‘To tell them we know the name of the man who was behind this, Sam Tannerson.’
‘Do you think that’s his real name?’
‘Probably not,’ said Roo as he turned in the direction of the palace. ‘But it’s the one he uses, and it will do.’
Duncan shrugged. ‘I don’t know what good it’ll do, but as I have no better idea, why not?’ He fell in beside his cousin and they began walking toward the Prince of Krondor’s palace.
Erik looked out over the yard where the levies hurried through their drills. He remembered with some guilty pleasure the near fit Alfred, the corporal from Darkmoor, had thrown when informed he was now reduced to the rank of private in the Prince’s new army. The third time Erik had deposited him on his ear on the parade ground had convinced him to shut up and do as he was told. Erik suspected he would turn out to be a better than average soldier if he could learn to control his temper.
‘What do you think?’ asked Robert de Loungville from behind.
Without turning to look, Erik said, ‘I’d know better what to think if I knew what exactly you, the Duke, the Prince, and everyone else you meet with every night have in mind.’
‘You’ve been down there. You know what’s coming,’ said de Loungville without emotion.
‘I think we’ve got a few men here who might do well enough,’ answered Erik. ‘These are all seasoned soldiers, but some of them are worthless.’
‘Why?’ asked Robert.
Erik turned and looked at the man to whom he reported. ‘Some of them are barracks rats, fit for nothing much more than light garrison duty and three meals a day. I guess their lords decided it was cheaper to let us feed them. Others are too …’ He struggled for a concept. ‘I don’t know, it’s like a horse that’s been trained to do one thing, then you want to train him to do another. You’ve first got to break him of the old habits.’
Robert nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘Some of these men just can’t think on their feet. If you’re in a battle and giving orders, they’re going to be fine, but if they’re on their own …’ Erik shrugged.
Robert said, ‘Muster all the castle rats and those too set in their ways to think for themselves after the midday meal. We’re going to send them back to their lords and masters. I want the ones who can think on their feet assembled an hour after the first bunch leaves the castle. I need to get this first bunch trained before we do some serious recruiting.’
‘Serious recruiting?’
‘Never mind. I’ll tell you about it when the time’s right.’
Erik saluted and was about to leave when a guardsman hurried out of the castle, saluted, and said, ‘Sergeant, the Knight-Marshal wants you and the corporal down at the City Watch office at once.’
De Loungville grinned. ‘What do you think? Want to bet it’s one of our own?’
Erik shrugged. ‘No bet.’
Erik followed him through the maze of corridors in the Prince’s palace. The original keep, built centuries before to protect the harbor below from Quegan raiders and pirates, had been added to over the years until a large sprawling series of interconnecting buildings with outer walls rested hard against the harbor side and covered the entire hill upon which the old keep was the summit.
Erik was starting to find his way around and feeling a little more comfortable, but there were still things he didn’t understand about what was taking place here in Krondor. He had barely seen Bobby since returning to the city. He and Jadow had been given better than a hundred men each to oversee, with Bobby’s orders simply being ‘Put them through their paces and keep an eye on them.’ Erik wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but he and the other corporal had contrived some vigorous training exercises based on the ones they themselves had endured when first coming into de Loungville’s service. After a week of this, Erik now had a pretty good idea who would fit in with the sort of army Calis was fashioning, and who wouldn’t.
Calis hadn’t been seen since Erik returned, and when he had asked about their Captain’s whereabouts, de Loungville shrugged and said he was off on some errand or another. That made Erik uneasy, as did the fact that Erik’s place in the scheme of things was unclear to him. The regular guard in the palace either avoided him or treated him with unusual deference for a corporal. He had guard servants address him as ‘sir,’ and yet when he asked questions, he got brusque, even rude answers. It was clear there was some resentment on the part of the existing garrison over the creation of this new army of Calis’s.
As they reached the office of the Watch Commander, Erik found his hand reaching for his sword without thought at the sight of Roo backing out of the Watch Commander’s office with his own sword drawn.
A shout from within could be heard: ‘He’ll not harm you! Put that sword away!’ He recognized the voice as belonging to William, Knight-Marshal of Krondor.
Roo’s appearance was one of a man totally unconvinced, yet Erik couldn’t see what was causing his friend such alarm. He almost fell, he was so startled by what he saw next. Coming out of the Watch Commander’s office was a green-scaled serpent with large red eyes in an alligatorlike head on a long sinuous neck. Then Erik saw the thing’s body and saw it had wings. It was a small dragon!
Before Erik could do anything, Robert said, ‘Relax.’ He stepped forward and said, ‘Fantus! You old thief!’ He knelt next to the creature and put his arm around its neck, giving it a hug as if it were a favorite hound. Bobby told Erik and Roo, ‘This thing is a sort of pet to our Lord William, so don’t be upsetting the King’s cousin by trying to kill it, will you?’
Suddenly, from inside the office, Erik heard William’s laugh and then his voice: ‘He said he’d like to see them try.’
Bobby playfully rubbed behind the creature’s eye ridges and said, ‘Still a tough old boot, aren’t you?’
Erik took Robert at his word that this was a pet, albeit the most fantastic pet anyone had ever imagined. The creature looked him up and down and suddenly Erik was convinced there was intelligence behind those eyes.
Erik stepped around to where Roo remained hard against the wall and looked past the creature into the office. Inside, the Watch Commander stood, while Knight-Marshal William remained to one side of the desk. Lord William was a short man, barely as tall as Bobby, but he looked fit for his age, somewhere in his fifties. He was reputed to be among the shrewdest military minds in the Kingdom. It was said that in the last years of Prince Arutha’s tenure he spent nearly every day talking with the old Prince, learning everything he could. Arutha’s deeds had been part history, part legend, but he was accounted one of the finest generals in the annals of the Kingdom.
William said to Robert, ‘Lord James will be along in a minute,’ and added to Roo and Erik, ‘Would one of you please fetch some water. Your friend has fainted.’
Erik looked down, saw Duncan’s feet sticking through the doorway, and realized he must have been the first to step through the office and encounter the small dragon.
Erik said, ‘I’ll go,’ and was off. To himself he said, ‘Just when I was thinking things couldn’t get much stranger.’
• Chapter Five • Newcomer (#ulink_18207d9a-8bbe-5f7d-a6b0-38a1dbc72165)
Roo yawned.
The discussion had been under way for hours. His mind wandered, so that when he was asked a question, he had to say, ‘Excuse me, my lord? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.’
Lord James, Duke of Krondor, said, ‘Robert, I think our young friend here is in need of refreshment. Take him and his cousin down to the mess while William and I confer.’
They had been holding a discussion in the Watch Commander’s office since Roo had arrived, and until Lord James had mentioned refreshments and the mess, Roo hadn’t given much thought to the fact he and Duncan had not broken their fast. De Loungville motioned for Roo and Duncan to follow him.
Outside the office, as they moved down the hall, Roo asked, ‘Sergeant, what’s going on? I had almost no hope I’d ever see my money again, but I want that bastard Sam Tannerson’s guts on a stick for what he’s done.’
Robert grinned back over his shoulder. ‘You’re still a vicious little rodent, aren’t you, Avery? I admire that in a man.’
As they moved through the castle, Robert said, ‘It’s not so simple as mustering the watch, going out, hauling in this Tannerson, and hanging him.’
‘No witnesses,’ offered Duncan.
‘Right. And there’s the issue of why there were these killings.’
‘Why were there?’ asked Roo. ‘Destroying my wine would have been clear enough warning.’
Robert motioned for them to pass through a door into the soldiers’ mess as he said, ‘Well, that’s what the Duke and the Knight-Marshal are asking themselves this very minute, I’m betting.’
Roo saw Erik and Jadow standing at one end of the mess while a bunch of soldiers in grey tunics and trousers sat eating. He waved and Erik came over. ‘Sergeant?’ he asked, to see if there were orders.
‘Tell Jadow to keep an eye on those recruits, and join us.’
Erik did as he was ordered, and when he was seated with the others, castle serving boys hurried over with food and ale. Robert dug in and said, ‘I think we’re going to have a bit of fun tonight.’
Roo said, ‘Fun?’
‘Well, if I can judge the Duke,’ said de Loungville, ‘I think he’s going to come to the conclusion that there’s been just a little too much killing going on of late, and it’s time to do something about it.’
‘Do what?’ asked Duncan. ‘The Mockers have been in control of parts of this city since … since before I was born, I know that much.’
Robert said, ‘True, but then, there’s never been a Duke of Krondor like Lord James, that’s also a fact.’ He smiled and bit into a cold joint of mutton. Speaking around the mouthful, he said, ‘Better stoke up your fires, lads. I think we’re going to have a long night ahead of us.’
Roo asked, ‘Us?’
Robert said, ‘You’ll want to come along, Avery. It’s your gold we’re trying to recover, isn’t it? Besides, what else have you got to do that’s better?’
Roo sighed. ‘Right now, nothing.’
‘We’ll give you a bunk for the afternoon so you can get your beauty rest,’ said de Loungville. ‘I think we’re going to be up most of the night.’
Roo shrugged. ‘If there’s a slim chance to get my gold back, I’ll take it. It’s about what I started with, so I’ll be even – not counting my time.’ He looked at Erik. ‘That bit of gold you gave me was part of it, too.’
Erik shrugged. ‘You don’t invest thinking any venture’s a sure thing. I knew that.’
‘I’ll get it back for you somehow,’ Roo promised. He turned his attention to the men at the far end of the hall. ‘Those your new band of “desperate men,” Sergeant?’
De Loungville smiled. ‘Not desperate enough, but then we haven’t really gotten started with them. Right now we’re just weeding out those who don’t have what it takes, right, Erik?’
‘Right, Sergeant,’ Erik agreed. ‘But I’m still not quite sure what the three of us are supposed to be doing.’
‘We’ll figure it out,’ said Robert in a noncommittal tone. ‘With luck, Trenchard’s Revenge should be coming into port any day now, and maybe some more of our boys will be aboard.’
Duncan raised an eyebrow in question, but no one volunteered any details to him.
Roo said, ‘Where’s the Captain?’
Robert shrugged. ‘He took off with Nakor, for Stardock. He should be back in a few more weeks.’
‘I wonder what he’s up to,’ mused Roo.
Robert de Loungville’s expression changed to one that Roo knew well, and Roo instantly regretted his words. Everyone at the table, save Duncan, was privy to secrets known only to a few, and such lapses would put Roo into more trouble than he wished should he again speak out of turn.
Erik glanced at Roo and years of friendship communicated all Roo needed to see to understand that Erik also wished Roo to remain silent.
Roo cleared his throat. ‘I think I could use that nap if we’re going out tonight.’
Robert nodded and Erik smiled, and Duncan seemed not to notice any of the exchange, and table talk turned to the mundane.
Calis looked over the rail and said, ‘See that?’
Nakor squinted against the late afternoon sun. ‘Keshian patrol.’
Calis and his companions were on a river boat, hugging the coast of the Sea of Dreams, a few miles away from Port Shamata. Calis said, ‘They’re quite a long way on the wrong side of the border if we can see them from here.’
Nakor shrugged. ‘Kingdom, Kesh, always fighting over this area. Good farmland, rich trade routes, but no one ever gets crops in and no one drives caravans through the Vale of Dreams because of the border raiders. So it lingers, like an old man too sick to live but not ready to die.’ He looked at his companion. ‘Tell the garrison commander at Shamata and he’ll send a patrol out to chase the Keshians south!’ he added with a grin.
Calis shook his head. ‘I’m sure someone will eventually mention it to him.’ He smiled a wry smile. ‘I don’t think I need say anything to him. If I do, he might feel the need to impress the Prince of Krondor’s special envoy by starting a war for my amusement.’
Calis’s eyes stayed fixed on the horizon long after the Keshian patrol vanished from view. Poor Shamata was visible in the distance to the southeast, but they wouldn’t be there for another hour, given the light wind of midday.
‘What do you see out there, Calis?’ asked Nakor, his voice hinting at concern. ‘You’ve been moody since we got back.’
Calis didn’t need to explain many things to Nakor, who probably understood more about the Pantathian serpent priests and their evil magic than any man living. He had certainly seen some of the worst manifestations of it. But Calis knew that right now Nakor wasn’t speaking of anything that had to do with Calis’s concerns over the distant threat to the Kingdom. It was a more personal issue that weighed on Calis’s mind.
‘Just thinking of someone.’
Nakor grinned, and looked over his shoulder at Sho Pi, the former monk of Dala, who at Nakor’s insistence now slept upon a bale of cotton. ‘Who is she?’
‘You’ve heard me speak of her. Miranda.’
‘Miranda?’ asked Nakor. ‘Heard of her from several men. A woman of mystery by all reports.’
Calis nodded. ‘She is a strange woman.’
‘But attractive,’ added Nakor, ‘also by all reports.’
‘That too. There’s so much I don’t know about her, yet I trust her.’
‘And you miss her.’
Calis shrugged. ‘My nature is not common –’
‘Unique,’ supplied Nakor.
‘– and issues of companionship are confusing to me,’ finished Calis.
‘Understandable,’ said Nakor. ‘I’ve been married twice. First when I was young to … you know to whom.’
Calis nodded. The woman Nakor knew as Jorna had evolved into the Lady Clovis, an agent of the Pantathians they had faced more than twenty years previously the first time Nakor and Calis had ventured south to Novindus. Now she was the Emerald Queen, the living embodiment of Alma-Lodaka, the Valheru who had created the Pantathians, and the figurehead of the army building across the sea that would someday invade the Kingdom.
‘The second woman was nice. Her name was Sharmia. She got old and died. I still get confused when dealing with women I find attractive, and I’m six times your age.’ Nakor shrugged. ‘If you must fall in love, Calis, fall in love with someone who will live a long time.’
‘I’m not sure what love is, Nakor,’ said Calis with an even more rueful smile. ‘My parents are something unique in history and there’s no small magic in their marriage.’
Nakor nodded. Calis’s father, Tomas, had been a human child, transformed by ancient magic into something not quite human, not quite Dragon Lord – as humans called the Valheru – and that ancient heritage had been part of what had drawn Calis’s mother, Aglaranna, the Elf Queen in Elvandar, into a union with Tomas.
Calis continued. ‘While I’ve had my share of dalliances no woman has held my attention –’
‘Until Miranda,’ finished Nakor. Calis nodded. Nakor said, ‘Perhaps it’s the mystery. Or the fact that she’s not around very much.’ Nakor pointed to Calis. ‘Have you and she …’
Calis laughed. ‘Of course. That’s not a small reason I feel drawn toward her.’
Nakor winced. ‘I wonder if there is any man alive who doesn’t think he’s in love between the sheets at least once.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Calis.
Nakor said, ‘I forget that while you’re past fifty years of age, you’re still considered young by your maternal race’s standards.’
‘A child,’ said Calis. ‘Still learning how to conduct myself as a proper eledhel should.’ He used the name his mother’s people used for themselves, the race humans called elves.
Nakor shook his head. ‘Sometimes I think those priests who take vows of chastity understand what a drain it is to be constantly thinking about who you’re going to bed with.’
‘My mother’s people are not a bit like that,’ said Calis. ‘They feel something grow between one of them and their destined mate and at some point they just … know.’
Calis again looked out at the shore as the boat began to head in toward the inlet that led to Port Shamata. ‘I think that’s why I’m drawn to my human heritage, Nakor. The stately progress of the seasons in Elvandar has a sameness that I find only slightly reassuring. The chaos that is human society … it sings to me more than the magic glades of my home.’
Nakor shrugged. ‘Who’s to say what is right? You are unlike any other, but like every other man or woman born on this world, no matter what your heritage at birth, ultimately you must decide who you are to be. When you’re finished with this “childhood” of yours, you may decide it’s time to live for a while with your mother’s people. Just remember this much from an old man who really isn’t very good at learning things from other people: every person you encounter, whom you interact with, is there to teach you something. Sometimes it may be years before you realize what each had to show you.’ He shrugged and turned his attention to the scene before him.
As the boat headed in to the reed-lined shore, smaller boats could be seen wending their way along the coast, fowlers hunting ducks and other water birds and fishermen dragging their nets. The riverboat moved quietly along, and Nakor and Calis were silent for the remainder of the voyage.
Sho Pi awoke as the sounds of the town grew in volume, and by the time the boat rested at the docks, he was standing beside his ‘master’ and Calis. As he was the Prince’s envoy, Calis had the right of rank in departing, but he moved away from the gangway and allowed the other passengers to depart first.
When they at last left the boat, Calis studied the shoreline and the town of Port Shamata. The city of Shamata was separated from the port by almost eighty miles of farmland and orchards. Originally a garrison to defend the southern border of the Kingdom against Great Kesh, Shamata had turned into the Kingdom’s largest city in the south. A squad of soldiers waited for Calis on the docks, and instead of heading down toward the city of Shamata, they would follow the shore of the Sea of Dreams until they reached the river that flowed down from the Great Star Lake. They would follow the river to the lake and then to Stardock town, which sat on the south shore of the lake, opposite the magicians’ community on Stardock island.
Along the docks the usual assortment of beggars, confidence men, workmen, and hawkers moved, for the arrival of a boat from the coast meant opportunities, legal and otherwise. Nakor grinned as he said to Sho Pi, ‘Watch your purse.’
‘I don’t have one, Master.’
Nakor had finally despaired of ever getting the young man to stop calling him master, so he just ignored it now.
Calis laughed and said, ‘It’s an expression.’
They left the boat and were greeted at the foot of the gangway by a sergeant in the tabard of the garrison of Shamata. Like the border barons of the north, the garrison commander at Shamata answered directly to the Crown, so there was little court formality observed in the Vale of Dreams. Pleased to be free of any need to pay a social call on local nobles, Calis accepted the man’s salute and said, ‘Your name?’
‘Sergeant Aziz, m’lord.’
‘My rank is captain,’ said Calis. ‘We need three horses and an escort to the Great Star Lake.’
‘The pigeons arrived days ago, Captain,’ answered the sergeant. ‘We have a subgarrison here at the port, with ample horses and enough troops to provide for your needs. My Captain sends an invitation to dine with him this evening, Captain.’
Calis glanced at the sky. ‘I think not. We can ride at least four hours and my mission is urgent. Send your Captain my regrets at the same time you send for mounts and provisions.’ Casting around, he pointed to a disreputable-looking inn across the street from the docks. ‘You’ll find us there.’
‘At once,’ said the sergeant, and he gave orders to a soldier nearby, who saluted and spurred his mount away.
‘It should be no longer than an hour, Captain. Your escort, horses, and provisions should be here quickly.’
‘Good,’ said Calis, motioning for Sho Pi and Nakor to follow him into the dockside inn.
A genial setting, the inn was neither the worst any of them had seen nor the best. It was what one would expect from an inn located so close to the docks: fitting for a leisurely wait, but not somewhere one would choose to frequent if better accommodations were available or affordable. Calis ordered a round of ale and they waited for the return of their escort.
Halfway through their second drink, Nakor’s attention was diverted by a sound from without. An inarticulate cry and a series of monkeylike hootings followed quickly by the sounds of a crowd laughing and jeering. He rose and looked through the closest window. ‘I can’t see anything. Let’s go outside.’
‘Let’s not,’ said Calis, but Nakor had already vanished through the doorway. Sho Pi shrugged and followed his master out of the inn.
Calis stood and followed, deciding it was better to see what trouble Nakor could find before he got too deep into it.
Outside, a crowd had gathered around a man who hunkered down on his haunches as he gnawed on a mutton bone. He was easily the filthiest man Calis had ever seen. It looked – and smelled – as if the man hadn’t bathed in years. Spending time in the fields made one indifferent to the level of fastidiousness required in the Prince’s court, but even among common dockworkers and poor travelers, this man was a walking cesspool.
His hair was black, with touches of grey, and rank with oil and dirt. Shoulder-length, it was matted with debris and old food. His face was nearly black from dirt above an equally filthy beard, and the skin, where it showed through, was sunburned. He wore a robe so torn and ragged it seemed to have more holes than material; whatever color the robe had been was a memory, for now the shreds were stained and smeared.
Years of indifferent eating had left the man famine-thin, and there were sores on his arms and legs.
‘Do the dance!’ shouted one of the workers.
The crouching man growled like a beast, but when the call was repeated a few more times, he put down his nearly bare mutton bone and held out his hand. ‘Please,’ he said, with a surprisingly plaintive tone, almost as if a child were begging. The word came out ‘Plizzz.’
Someone in the crowd shouted, ‘Dance first!’
The ragged beggar stood and suddenly executed a furious mad twirling. Calis stopped behind Nakor, who stood watching the beggar closely. Something about the movements seemed vaguely familiar to Calis, as if hidden in the mad twirling was familiar movement. ‘What is this?’ he said.
Nakor spoke without looking back. ‘Something fascinating.’
The man finished dancing and stood there, swaying with weakness, and held his hand out. Someone in the crowd threw him a half-eaten piece of bread, which landed at the beggar’s feet. He instantly crouched and swept it up.
A supervisor shouted, ‘Here now, get back to work,’ and most of the dockworkers moved away. A few others remained a moment to watch the beggar; then they started to wander off.
Calis turned to a man he took to be a local and asked, ‘Who is he?’
‘Some crazy man,’ said the stranger. ‘He showed up a few months ago and lives where he can. He dances for food.’
‘Where did he come from?’ asked Nakor.
‘No one knows,’ said the townsman, moving along.
Nakor went over to where the ragged man crouched and knelt down before him, studying his face. The man growled like an animal and half turned away to protect his meatless bone and crust of bread.
Nakor reached into his carry sack and pulled out an orange. He stuck his thumb in and pulled off the peel, then handed a section to the beggar. The beggar looked at the fruit a moment, then snatched it from Nakor’s hand. He tried to stuff the entire orange into his mouth at once, creating a wash of orange juice that flowed down his beard.
Sho Pi and Calis came to stand behind Nakor and Calis said, ‘What is this?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered Nakor. He stood up. ‘But we need to take this man with us.’
‘Why?’ asked Calis.
Nakor looked down at the grunting beggar. ‘I don’t know. There’s something familiar about him.’
‘What? You know him?’ asked Calis.
Nakor scratched his chin. ‘He doesn’t look familiar, but given all that dirt, who can say. No, I don’t think I know him. But I think he may be important.’
‘How?’
Nakor grinned. ‘I don’t know. Call it a hunch.’
Calis looked dubious, but over the years Nakor’s hunches had proven to be important, often critical, so he only nodded. The sound of riders approaching signaled the arrival of their own mounts and escort. Calis said, ‘You’ll have to figure out how to convince him to get on a horse, though.’
Nakor stood, scratching his head. ‘Now, that would be a trick.’
Calis said, ‘And before anything else, we’re going to have to give him a bath.’
Nakor’s grin widened. ‘That will be an even better trick.’
Calis returned the grin. ‘Then you figure out how to do it. If I must, I’ll have the guards throw him into the sea.’
Nakor turned and stood considering the options before him as the riders reached Calis.
They gathered at a modest inn in the Merchants’ Quarter, a few streets over from the Poor Quarter of Krondor. The inn was under the control of the Prince of Krondor, though few who frequented it knew that fact. A back room was being used for a meeting, conducted by Robert de Loungville.
‘Duncan, you and William here’ – he indicated a man that Roo had never laid eyes on before – ‘will find your way to a small booth near the corner of Candlemaker Road and Dulanic Street. The man selling scarves and headcloths is a snitch for the Mockers. Make sure he doesn’t say anything to anyone. Knock him senseless if you must.’
Roo glanced at Erik, who shrugged. A dozen men who were strangers crowded into the small room with de Loungville and those who’d had lunch with him earlier in the day. It was now an hour past supper, and most of the shops were either closed for the day or doing their evening business. Erik and Roo were to travel with Jadow and de Loungville to a shop and wait across the street. Robert had impressed on them that if he gave the word they were to get into that shop as quickly as humanly possible. He said it twice, so Roo knew de Loungville viewed that as a critical part of the night’s mission.
‘You, you, and you,’ said Robert, pointing to three teams assigned to neutralize Mocker lookouts. ‘Out the back door.’
He was silent for a few minutes, then pointed to Duncan and the man named William. ‘Go now, out the front.’
They left, and over the course of the next ten minutes the rest of the agents were dispatched. When the four remaining men were alone, Roo said, ‘Who were those other men?’
‘Let’s say the Prince needs a lot of eyes and ears in his city,’ said de Loungville.
‘Secret police,’ said Jadow.
‘Something like that,’ said de Loungville. ‘Avery, you’re the quickest man here; stay close to me. Erik, you and Jadow are too big to escape notice for long, so stay where I put you and don’t move. Once we leave this inn, no talking. Any questions?’
There were none, and de Loungville led them out of the back of the inn. They hurried through the streets, attempting to look like nothing more than four citizens on some errand or another, urgent perhaps, but unremarkable.
They passed a booth at a corner where the Poor Quarter began and saw Duncan and the man named William engaged in deep debate with the vendor. Roo noticed that Duncan stood in such a way that his holding a sword point to the other man’s ribs was difficult to ascertain, while William was ready to intercept any who might come too close to the booth.
They turned down a short street to another avenue paralleling the first, and turned the corner. With a wave of his hand, de Loungville motioned for Jadow and Erik to secrete themselves within a deep and relatively dark doorway, while he quickly moved across the street with Roo. Using hand signals, he indicated Roo should stand against the wall between a doorway and a window. De Loungville took up a position at the corner of the building, between the door and an alleyway that ran next to the building. From within the building, Roo heard the sounds of what he took to be a merchant moving portions of his inventory around. He resisted the impulse to peek into the window and tried to look like a man simply lounging for a minute, while he kept his eyes darting around, looking for signs of trouble.
A figure swept out of the darkness, bundled in a great cloak. Vaguely, behind him, figures seemed to melt away into the darkness and Roo sensed more than saw others taking up nearby positions.
The robed man moved purposefully past Roo and took the three steps up to the door of the establishment. Roo glimpsed him as he passed and Roo’s eyes widened. The man entered the shop, closing the door behind. Roo heard a voice say, ‘Can I help –’
‘Hello,’ interrupted a familiar voice.
A long silence was followed by the first voice saying, ‘James?’
‘It’s been a while,’ answered Lord James, Duke of Krondor. ‘What? Forty years?’
‘More.’ There was a long silence, then the man said, ‘I assume your men are outside.’
‘Sufficient to make sure this conversation is uninterrupted and ends when I say it ends.’
Again there was a silence, and the sound of two men moving around. What sounded like chairs being pulled across the floor ended with James saying, ‘Thank you.’
‘I don’t suppose it would do any good claiming I’ve long since gone straight and am nothing more than a simple merchant.’
‘Claim all you want, Brian,’ said James. ‘Thirty years ago, when I had heard a merchant named Lysle Rigger had shown up in Krondor, I asked Prince Arutha to set agents on you like hounds on a trail. Even when I was ruling in Rillanon these last twenty years, I’ve had regular reports on you.’
‘Rigger. I haven’t used that name in years. I haven’t used that name since – where was it we met?’
‘We met in Lyton,’ said James.
‘Yes, now I remember,’ came the reply. ‘I used it only a few times since then.’
‘No matter.’ James sighed audibly. ‘It took the Prince’s men a few years to make sure they had all your bolt-holes covered and your runners identified, but once they did, it was easy enough for me to keep track of you.’
‘You’ve better men than we thought. We’re always on the lookout for agents of the Crown.’
James said, ‘That’s because until tonight we were content to simply watch. Remember, I used to be a Mocker. There are still a few around who remember Jimmy the Hand.’
‘Now what?’
‘Well, you’re going to have to change your name again, and do something about your appearance. If you don’t, the beggars and thieves will decide it’s time for a new leader.’
There was a chuckle and Roo strained to hear every word. ‘You know, it all goes back to that business with the Crawler. If he hadn’t tried to take over the guild in the first place, we’d have had a far more orderly change than we had when the Virtuous Man took over. That was a mess.’
‘So I hear,’ said James. ‘But that’s neither here nor there. What brings me to you tonight, Lysle, or Brian if you prefer, is this: lately, you’ve lost control over the guild. Too many happy little cutthroats are running around my city killing my law-abiding, taxpaying citizens. A little theft and larceny are normal for a city like Krondor, but last night one of your butchers killed a stableboy, two barmaids, and four horses as a “warning” to a young wine merchant that he needed to pay protection.’
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Raymond E. Feist
The second book in the bestselling Serpentwar series.It’s hard to build a business empire in the midst of magic and murder…After a harrowing brush with the armies of the Emerald Queen Roo Avery is now free to choose his own destiny. His ambition is to become one of the most powerful merchants in Midkemia.But nothing can prepare him for the dangers of the new life he has chosen, where the repayment of a debt can be as deadly as a knife in the shadows and betrayal is always close at hand.But the war with the Emerald Queen is far from over and the inevitable confrontation will pose the biggest threat yet to Roo's newfound wealth and power.
RAYMOND E. FEIST
Rise of a Merchant Prince
Book Two of the Serpentwar Saga
Copyright (#ulink_df5df48c-c5ad-581f-81d0-979c6841411d)
HarperVoyager An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 1995
Copyright © Raymond E. Feist 1995
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks
HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication
Source ISBN: 9780006497011
Ebook Edition © AUGUST 2012 ISBN: 9780007370214
Version: 2018-08-23
This book is dedicated toDiane and David Clark,good friends
Table of Contents
Cover (#u58f16bcc-99ea-5172-9241-a06bb823395a)
Title Page (#uaa042fa6-9ef1-52e5-af32-8844d297d566)
Copyright (#u1b0a88d7-bb03-5a9d-b0a8-3c7611869a74)
Dedication (#ulink_370ef0a4-7775-5a81-82ac-3240f102364c)
Map (#u470069c0-1cf4-57bf-bb20-4526ff4ccaf2)
Cast of Characters (#u2ae26886-441f-54db-b27f-f5ef430d2538)
Book Two: Roo’s Tale (#ued2f87fd-3472-5eea-9a86-213390634774)
Prologue: Demonia (#uc11d3abf-d0b6-5623-a08e-9d978f22a6bf)
Chapter One: Return (#ue6cfc682-c7b8-5327-a8b6-7051c617312f)
Chapter Two: Homecoming (#u95a8aaed-971a-5d7a-89f5-392b17a7edc1)
Chapter Three: Bargains (#uc96f3971-01d3-5c24-b181-dfcdb7ce2607)
Chapter Four: Setback (#uf190c46f-6d52-517a-8f47-6e5b84447758)
Chapter Five: Newcomer (#u867c5dc3-6648-5458-a875-2432c9a61974)
Chapter Six: Barret’s (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven: Opportunity (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight: Players (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine: Growth (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten: Plans (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven: Travel (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve: Expansion (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen: Gamble (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen: Surprise (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen: Consolidation (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen: Friends (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen: Disasters (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen: Discovery (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen: Revelations (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty: Discovery (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue: Rescue (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)
Continue the Adventure … (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
By the Same Author (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
(#ulink_c451e9cf-995e-5a42-a855-2309eef16bf9)
Cast of Characters (#ulink_ff48fdfa-3aea-5423-bfd2-067688f9c3f9)
Aglaranna – Elf Queen in Elvandar, wife of Tomas, mother of Calin and Calis
Alfred – corporal from Darkmoor
Avery, Abigail – daughter of Roo and Karli
Avery, Duncan – cousin of Roo
Avery, Helmut – son of Roo and Karli
Avery, Rupert ‘Roo’ – young merchant of Krondor, son of Tom Avery
Avery, Tom – teamster, Roo’s father
Aziz – sergeant at Shamata
Betsy – serving girl at the Inn of the Seven Flowers
Boldar Blood – mercenary hired by Miranda in the Hall of Worlds
Borric – King of the Isles, twin brother of Prince Erland, brother of Prince Nicholas, father of Prince Patrick
Calin – elf heir to the throne of Elvandar, half brother of Calis, son of Aglaranna and King Aidan
Calis – ‘The Eagle of Krondor,’ special agent of the Prince of Krondor, Duke of the Court, son of Aglaranna and Tomas, half brother of Calin
Carline – Dowager Duchess of Salador, aunt of the King
Chalmes – ruling magician at Stardock
Crowley, Brandon – trader at Barret’s Coffee House
De Loungville, Robert ‘Bobby’ – sergeant major of Calis’s crimson Eagles
De Savona, Luis – former soldier, assistant to Roo
Dunstan, Brian – the Sagacious Man, leader of the Mockers, used to be known as Lysle Rigger
Ellien – town girl in Ravensburg
Erland – brother of the King and Prince Nicholas, uncle of Prince Patrick
Esterbrook, Jacob – wealthy merchant of Krondor, father of Sylvia
Esterbrook, Sylvia – Jacob’s daughter
Fadawah – general leading the Emerald Queen’s army
Freida – Erik’s mother
Galain – elf in Elvandar
Gamina – adopted daughter of Pug, sister of William, wife of James, mother of Arutha
Gapi – general in the Emerald Queen’s army
Gaston – wagon dealer in Ravensburg
Gordon – corporal at Krondor
Graves, Katherine ‘Kitty’ – girl thief in Krondor
Greylock, Owen – captain in the Prince’s service
Grindle, Helmut – merchant, father of Karli, partner of Roo
Grindle, Karli – daughter of Helmut, later wife of Roo Avery, mother of Abigail and Helmut
Gunther – Nathan’s apprentice
Gwen – town girl in Ravensburg
Hoen, John – manager of Barret’s
Hume, Stanley – trader at Barret’s
Jacoby, Frederick – founder of Jacoby and Sons, traders
Jacoby, Helen – wife of Randolph
Jacoby, Randolph – son of Frederick, brother of Timothy, husband of Helen
Jacoby, Timothy – son of Frederick, brother of Randolph
James – Duke of Krondor, father of Arutha, grandfather of James and Dash
Jameson, Arutha – Lord Vencar, Baron of the Prince’s Court, son of Duke James
Jameson, Dashel ‘Dash’ – younger son of Arutha, grandson of James
Jameson, James ‘Jimmy’ – elder son of Arutha, grandson of James
Jamila – madam at the White Wing
Jason – waiter at Barret’s, later accountant for Avery and Son and the Bitter Sea Company
Jeffrey – wagon driver for Jacoby and Sons
Kalied – ruling magician at Stardock
Kurt – bullying waiter at Barret’s
Lender, Sebastian – litigator/solicitor at Barret’s Coffee House
McKeller – head waiter at Barret’s
Milo – innkeeper in Ravensburg, father of Rosalyn
Miranda – magician and ally of Calis and Pug
Nakor the Isalani – gambler, magic user, friend of Calis
Patrick – Prince of Krondor, son of Prince Erland, nephew of the King and Prince Nicholas
Pug – magician, Duke of Stardock, cousin of the King, father of Gamina
Rivers, Alistair – innkeeper of the Happy Jumper
Rosalyn – Milo’s daughter, wife of Rudolph, mother of Gerd
Rudolph – baker in Ravensburg
Shati, Jadow – corporal in Calis’s company
Tannerson, Sam – thief in Krondor
Tomas – Warleader of Elvandar, husband of Aglaranna, father of Calis
Vinci, John – merchant in Sarth
von Darkmoor, Erik – soldier in Calis’s Crimson Eagles
von Darkmoor, Manfred – Baron of Darkmoor, half brother of Erik
von Darkmoor, Mathilda – Baroness of Darkmoor, mother of Manfred
William-Knight-Marshal of Krondor, Pug’s son, Gamina’s adopted brother, uncle of Jimmy and Dash
Book Two Roo’s Tale (#ulink_d33c89ac-d115-51f4-9e98-3fc867017932)
Wealth, howsoever got, in England makes
Lords of mechanics, gentlemen of rakes;
Antiquity and birth are needless here;
‘Tis Impudence and money makes a peer.
– Daniel Defoe
The True-born Englishman, Pt. 1
• Prologue • Demonia (#ulink_8c4fe66f-7900-5e26-bf83-032836b1b99c)
The soul screamed.
The demon turned, and as its gaping maw was set in a permanent grin, the only hint of its increased delight was a slight widening of its eyes, black orbs resembling those of a shark: flat and lifeless. It studied the jar it held for a moment, its only possession.
This soul was especially active and the demon had been fortunate to find it and keep it. Placing the jar under its chin, the demon closed its eyes and felt the energy flow into it from the jar. The creature’s emotional makeup knew nothing that could be called happiness, only lessened states of fear or anger, but the surge of feeling within was as close to happiness as the creature could know. Each time the soul within the jar struggled, the energy created filled the little demon’s mind with new ideas.
As if suddenly concerned its toy would be taken from it by one of its more powerful brethren, the demon glanced around. The hall was one of many in the grand palace of Cibul, capital of the now destroyed Saaur race.
Then the demon remembered: destroyed save those who had fled through a magic gate. It felt its anger return, and then the emotion quickly fled. As a minor demon, it was not intelligent, only cunning, and it didn’t fully understand why the escape of a small part of this nearly obliterated race was important. But it was, for the Demon Lords were even now gathered upon the plains to the east of the city of Cibul, inspecting the site of the now closed rift through which the Saaur survivors had fled.
The Lords of the Fifth Circle had attempted once to open the portal, managing to keep it open long enough to slip a tiny demon through, before it collapsed upon itself, sealing the rift between the two realms and stranding the tiny demon on the other side of the rift. There was much consultation among the greater demons on reopening that rift and gaining entrance to this new realm.
The demon wandered the halls, oblivious to the ravages around it. Tapestries that had taken a generation to weave were torn from the walls and trodden upon, soiled by dirt and blood. The demon cracked a Saaur rib bone underfoot and absently kicked it aside. At last it came to its secret room, the one it had claimed as its own while the Host of the Fifth Circle resided on this cold planet. Leaving the demon realm was a terrible experience, thought the young demon. This had been the demon’s first journey to this realm, and it wasn’t sure it cared much for the pain of transition.
The feasting had been glorious; never had it known such a wealth of food, even though it was limited to scraps from the feasting pits, thrown out by the mightiest of the host as they fed. But scraps or not, the demon had devoured much and had grown. And that was creating problems for itself.
It sat down, attempting to find a comfortable position as its body changed. The feasting had continued for nearly a year and many of the lesser demons had grown. This particular demon had grown faster than most, though it still hadn’t matured enough to have developed significant intelligence or a sexual identity.
Looking down at the plaything, the demon laughed, a silent gaping of jaws and sucking of wind. The mortal eye could not behold the thing within the jar. The demon, who didn’t have a name yet, had been most fortunate to snare this particular soul. A great demon captain, almost a lord, had fallen to mighty magic even as the great Tugor had crushed and eaten the leader of the Saaur. One of the Saaur magic users, a powerful one, had destroyed the demon captain, but at the cost of his own life. The little demon might not be intelligent, but it was quick, and without hesitation it had seized the fleeing soul force of the dead magic user.
The demon inspected the device again, the soul jar, and poked at it. The magic soul within rewarded it by thrashing, if something without a body could be said to thrash.
The demon shifted its weight. It knew it was getting more powerful, but the nearly nonstop feeding was at an end. The last of the Saaur were dead and devoured, and now the demon host was depending on lesser animals for food, animals with negligent soul force. There were some client races, who would breed children, some of which would go to the feasting pits, but that meant slow growth in this realm. Its body would continue to mature, but not significantly until the next realm had been entered.
Cold, the demon thought as it glanced around the large room, ignorant of its original use: a bedroom for one of the Saaur leader’s many wives. The native realm was one of wild energies and pulsing heat, where the demons of the Fifth Circle grew like wild things, devouring one another, until strong enough to escape and serve the Demon King and his lords and captains. This demon had but vague recollections of its own beginning, remembering only anger and fear, and an occasional moment of pleasure as it devoured something.
The demon settled down on the floor. With a changing body, it couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position. Its back itched, and with certainty it knew wings would grow there soon, tiny at first, then growing larger as it rose in power. The demon was clever enough to know it would have to fight to gain rank, so it had better rest. It had been lucky so far, as the critical periods in its growth had come during the war on this world, and most of the host were too occupied with devouring the inhabitants of this world to contest in their own ranks.
Others were now fighting, and the losers would add strength to the winners as they were devoured; any demon without enough rank was a fair target for another save when a lord or captain demanded obedience. It was simply the way of this race, and each who fell was considered unworthy of a second thought. This demon considered that there must be a better way to gain more strength than an open challenge and outright attack. But it couldn’t think of what it could be.
Glancing around what had once been a regal and richly appointed dwelling, the demon closed its eyes, but not before glancing one last time at the soul jar. Feeding might cease awhile, and with it physical growth, but it had learned during the war that physical growth, while impressive, wasn’t as important as knowing things. The contents of the soul jar were a being rich in knowledge, and this little demon meant to have that knowledge. The demon placed the jar against its forehead and mentally prodded the soul, causing more thrashing, and the energy that resulted flowed into the demon. Powerful, like a drug to a mortal, the sensation was among the most glorious known to demonkind. The demon felt something new in its experience: satisfaction. Soon it would be smarter, know things, and then it would be able to use more than animal cunning to gain rank and a position of power.
And when the Demon Lords finally discovered a way to open fully the gate that had been sealed behind the fleeing Saaur, then the Demon Host of the Fifth Circle would follow and then there would be ample opportunity to feed upon the Saaur and upon whatever other intelligent, soul-bearing creatures lived upon the world of Midkemia.
• Chapter One • Return (#ulink_69330571-2b5c-5e8c-b7a8-adc0ef65fe03)
A ship swept into the harbor.
Black and dangerous, it moved like a dark hunter bearing down on its prey. Three tall masts, majestic under full sail, propelled the warship into the harbor of a great city as other ships gave way. Although she looked like a great pirate vessel from the distant Sunset Islands, her foremast flew the Royal Ensign, and all who saw the ship knew that the King’s brother was returning home.
High aloft that ship, a young man worked quickly, reefing the mizzen topsail. Roo paused a moment as he tied the final reef point, and looked across the harbor at the city of Krondor.
The Prince’s city spread out along the docks, rose on hills to the south, and spread out of sight to the north. The panorama was impressive as the ship sped in from the sea. The young man – eighteen years of age at the next Midsummer’s festival – had thought on numerous occasions over the past year and more that he would never see the city again. Yet here he was, finishing up his watch atop the mizzen mast of the Freeport Ranger, a ship under the command of Admiral Nicholas, brother to the King of the Kingdom of the Isles and uncle to the Prince of Krondor.
Krondor was the second most important city in the Kingdom of the Isles, the capital of the Western Realm and seat of power for the Prince of Krondor, heir to the throne of the Isles. Roo could see the multitude of small buildings scattered across the hills surrounding the harbor, the vista dominated by the Prince’s palace, which sat atop a steep hill hard against the water. The majesty of the palace was in stark contrast to the rude buildings that lined the waterfront close by, warehouses and chandlers’ shops, sail- and rope-makers, carpenters and sailor’s inns. Second only to the Poor Quarter as a haven for thugs and thieves, the waterfront was thrown by the proximity of the palace into an even more seedy aspect.
Yet Roo was pleased to see Krondor, for now he was a free man. He glanced one last time at his work, ensuring that the sail was properly reefed, and moved quickly along the footrope with a sure balance learned while crossing treacherous seas for nearly two years.
Roo considered the oddity of facing his third spring in a row without a winter. The topsy-turvy seasons of the land on the other side of the world had contrived to provide Roo and his boyhood friend, Erik, with such a situation, and Roo found the notion both amusing and oddly disquieting.
He shinnied down a sheet, reaching the top of the mizzenmast ratline. Roo didn’t particularly like top work, but as one of the smaller and more nimble men in the crew, he was often told to go aloft and unfurl or reef the royals and topgallants. He scampered down the ratline and landed lightly on the deck.
Erik von Darkmoor, Roo’s only friend as a boy, finished his task of tying off a yard brace to a cleat, then hurried to the rail as they sped past other ships in the harbor. A full two heads taller and twice the bulk of his friend, Erik made with Roo as unlikely a pair as any two boys could have been. While Erik was stronger than any boy in their hometown of Ravensburg, Roo was among the smallest. While Erik would never be called handsome, he wore an open and friendly expression that others found likable; Roo had no illusions about his own appearance. He was homely by any standards, with a pinched face, eyes that were narrowed and darting around as if constantly looking for threats, and a nearly permanent expression that could only be called furtive. But on those rare occasions when he smiled, or laughed, a warmth was revealed that made him far from unattractive. It was that roguish humor and willingness to brave trouble that had attracted Erik to Roo when they were children.
Erik pointed and Roo nodded at those ships moving away from their own as the Freeport Ranger was given right of way to the royal docks below the palace. One of the older sailors laughed and Roo turned to ask, ‘What?’
‘Prince Nicky’s going to irritate the Harbormaster again.’ Erik, his hair almost bleached white by the sun, looked at the sailor, who had blue eyes that stood out in stark contrast to his sunburned face. ‘What do you mean?’
The sailor pointed. ‘There’s the Harbormaster’s launch.’ Roo looked to where the man pointed. ‘He’s not slowing to pick up a pilot!’
The sailor laughed. ‘The Admiral is his teacher’s student. Old Admiral Trask used to do the same thing, but he’d at least allow the pilot up on deck so he could personally irritate him by refusing to take a tow into the dock. Admiral Nicky’s the King’s brother, so he doesn’t even bother with that formality.’
Roo and Erik glanced upward and saw that old sailors were standing by waiting to reef in the last sails on the Admiral’s command. Roo then looked to the poop deck and saw Nicholas, formerly Prince of Krondor and presently Admiral of the King’s Fleet in the West, give the signal. Instantly the old hands pulled up the heavy canvas and tied off. Within seconds Roo and the others on the deck could feel the ship’s speed begin to fall off as they neared the royal docks located below the royal palace of the Prince.
The Ranger’s motion continued to drop off, but to Roo it felt as if they were still moving into the docks too fast. The old sailor spoke as if reading his mind. ‘We’re pushing a lot of water into the quay, and that’ll push back as we come alongside the docks, slowing us down to almost a full stop, though she’ll make the cleats groan a bit.’ He made ready to throw a line to those waiting on the dock ahead. ‘Lend a hand!’
Roo and Erik each grabbed another line and waited for the command. When Nicholas shouted, ‘Cast away!’ Roo threw to a man on the dockside, who caught the rope expertly and quickly made it fast to a large iron cleat. As the old sailor said, when the line went taut the iron cleats seemed to groan as the wooden docks were flexed, but the bow wake returned from the stone quay and the huge ship seemed to settle in with a single rocking motion, as if it sighed in relief that it was good to be home.
Erik turned to Roo. ‘Wonder what the Harbormaster will say to the Admiral.’
Roo glanced aft as the Admiral made his way to the main deck, and considered the question. The first time Roo had seen the man had been at Erik’s and Roo’s trial for the murder of Erik’s half brother, Stefan. The second time he had seen him had been when the survivors of the mercenary company to which Roo and Erik belonged had been rescued from a fishing smack outside the harbor of the city of Maharta. Having served under the Admiral on the voyage homeward, Roo’s opinion was ‘He’ll probably say nothing, go home, and get drunk.’
Erik laughed. He also knew that Nicholas was a man of calm authority, who could embarrass a subordinate to the point of tears with a stare and no words spoken, a trait he shared with Calis, the Captain of Roo and Erik’s company, the Crimson Eagles.
Of the original company, numbering in the hundreds, fewer than fifty men survived – the six who had fled with Calis and some stragglers who had found their way to the City of the Serpent River before the Freeport Ranger had departed for Krondor. Nicholas’s other ship, Trenchard’s Revenge, had remained in the harbor at the City of the Serpent River for an extra month, in case more men from Calis’s troop found their way there. Any who were not there when she weighed anchor would be considered to be dead.
The gangplank was run out, and Roo and Erik watched as Nicholas and Calis were the first to disembark. On the dock waited Patrick, Prince of Krondor, his uncle Prince Erland – nephew and brother respectively to Nicholas – and other members of the royal court of Krondor.
Erik said, ‘Not much of a show, is it?’
Roo could only nod. A lot of men had died to bring back the information Nicholas carried to his nephew, the Prince. And from what Roo knew, it was scant information at best. He turned his attention to the royal family.
Nicholas, formerly Prince of Krondor until his nephew had come from the capital of the Kingdom of the Isles to assume the office, looked nothing like his brother. Erland’s hair was mostly grey, but there was enough red remaining to reveal its original hue. Nicholas, likewise going grey, was a man of dark hair and intense features. Patrick, the new Prince of Krondor, was somewhere between his two uncles in appearance, darker of skin than both, but his hair was a middle brown in color. He seemed to have something of Erland’s powerful build and Nicholas’s intensity.
‘No,’ said Roo, ‘you’re right; not much by way of ceremony.’
Erik nodded. ‘Then again, by now they all know there’s not much glory in any of this. The Prince and his uncle are probably both anxious to hear what news Calis and Nicholas have.’
Roo sighed agreement. ‘None of it good. It’s all bloody business and it’s going to get worse.’
A friendly slap to the back caused both Roo and Erik to turn. Robert de Loungville stood behind the two young men, grinning in a way that up until recently made both men expect the worst, but this time they knew he was merely showing the more affable side of his nature. He kept his receding hair cropped close to his skull, and he needed a shave. ‘Where to, lads?’
Roo jingled a purse of gold tucked into his tunic. ‘I think a good glass of ale, the tender touch of a bad woman, and then I’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.’
Erik shrugged. ‘I’ve been thinking, and I want to take up your offer, Sergeant.’
‘Good,’ said de Loungville, sergeant of Calis’s company. He had offered Erik a place in the army, but in a special command being formed by Calis, Prince Nicholas’s mysterious and not-quite-human ally. ‘Come by Lord James’s office at midday tomorrow. I’ll leave word at the palace gate you’re to be admitted.’
Roo studied the men on the dock. ‘Our Prince is an impressive-looking man.’
Erik said, ‘I know what you mean. He and his father both look the sort who have been in some serious places.’
De Loungville said, ‘Never let their rank fool you, lads. Erland and our King, and their sons after them, spent their time along the northern borders fighting goblins and the Brotherhood of the Dark Path.’ He used the common name for the moredhel, the dark elves who lived on the far side of the mountains known as the Teeth of the World. ‘I heard that the King got into some serious business down in Kesh once, a run-in with slavers or some such thing. Whatever it was, he came out of it with a good opinion of the common man, for a king.
‘We haven’t had a court-bred king since King Rodric, before old King Lyam took the throne, and that was before I was born. These are tough men who’ve spent some time soldiering, and it’ll take a few more generations before any in this family becomes soft. The Captain will see to that.’ There was something in his voice that hinted at strong emotions; Roo glanced at the sergeant and tried to glean what it was, but de Loungville’s expression had returned to a broad grin.
‘What are you thinking?’ asked Erik of Roo, his best friend since childhood.
Roo said, ‘Just how funny families can be.’ He pointed to the group on the dock, listening carefully to Nicholas.
Erik said, ‘Notice our Captain.’
Roo nodded. He knew Erik meant Calis. The elflike man stood off to one side, with just enough distance between himself and the others to be apart, yet close enough to answer questions when asked.
Robert de Loungville said, ‘He’s been my friend for twenty years. He found me serving with Daniel Troville, Lord Highcastle, and dragged me away from the border wars to go to the strangest places a man can imagine. I’ve been with him longer than any man in his company, eaten cold rations with him, slept beside him, watched men die in his arms, even had him carry me for two days after the fall of Hamsa, but I can’t say I know the man.’
Erik asked, ‘Is it true he’s part elf?’
De Loungville rubbed his chin. ‘I can’t say I know the truth of that. He told me his father came from Crydee originally; a kitchen boy, he claims. He doesn’t talk about his past much. Mostly he plans for the future, and takes barracks rats like you two and turns them into soldiers. But it’s worthwhile. I wasn’t much more than a barracks rat myself when he found me. Worked up from that to my grand station today.’ He said the last with an even broader grin, as if he were nothing more than a common sergeant and that remark a joke, but both Erik and Roo had been told he carried high court rank in addition to his military rank. ‘So I never asked too many personal questions. He’s very much what you might call a “right now” sort of fellow.’ De Loungville’s voice lowered, as if Calis might somehow overhear from down on the dock, and his expression turned serious. ‘He does have those pointy ears. Still, I never heard of any such being – half-man, half-elf – yet he can do things no other man I know can do.’ He grinned again as he said, ‘But he’s saved all our hides more times than I can count, so who’s to care what his line is? Your station at birth means nothing. A man can’t change that. What’s important is how you live.’ He slapped both young men on the shoulder. ‘You were worthless dogmeat when I found you, fit only for starving crows, but look at you now!’
Erik and Roo exchanged looks, then laughed. Both were wearing the same clothing they had worn when escaping the destruction of the city of Maharta, oft patched, stained beyond cleaning, reducing both men to the appearance of common street thugs.
Roo said, ‘We’re two men in need of some fresh clothing. Save Erik’s boots, we look the part of ragpickers.’
Erik glanced down and said, ‘And these need mending.’ The boots were all he had left from the Baron of Darkmoor’s legacy, a grudging admission to Erik of his paternity, along with not denying Erik the right to call himself ‘von Dark-moor.’ The boots were riding boots, but Erik had walked enough to wear the heels down to nearly nothing, and the leather was weather-beaten and cracked.
Sho Pi, an Isalani from the Empire of Great Kesh, came up on deck from below, carrying his own travel bag. Behind him came Nakor, also an Isalani, and the man Sho Pi had decided was destined to be his ‘master.’ He appeared old, but moved with a spry step and quickness that both Erik and Roo knew well. He had instructed them in hand-to-hand combat, and Roo and Erik knew that the odd little man, as well as Sho Pi, was as dangerous unarmed as most men were with weapons. Roo was convinced he had never seen Nakor move as fast as possible, and wasn’t sure he would welcome such a demonstration. Roo was a gifted student of the open-handed school of fighting practiced in the Isalani provinces of Kesh, only surpassed by Sho Pi and Nakor in Calis’s company, but he knew either man could easily defeat him with a quick killing blow.
‘I am not going to have you trailing around behind me, boy!’ insisted the bandy-legged Nakor, yelling over his shoulder. ‘I haven’t been to a city in nearly twenty years that wasn’t being burned to the ground or overrun by soldiers or otherwise unpleasant in some fashion, and I intend to enjoy myself awhile. Then I’m going back to Sorcerer’s Isle.’
Sho Pi, a head taller than Nakor, and in possession of a full head of dark hair, otherwise looked like a much younger version of the wiry little man. He said, ‘Whatever you say, Master.’
‘Don’t call me master,’ insisted Nakor, putting his own travel bag over his shoulder. Moving to the rail he said, ‘Erik, Roo! Where are you going?’
‘To get a drink, a whore, and new clothing, in that order,’ said Roo.
‘Then I’m going home to see my mother and friends,’ said Erik.
‘What about you?’ asked Roo.
‘I’m going with you,’ Nakor said, hoisting his bag, ‘until the “going home” part. Then I shall hire a boat to take me to Sorcerer’s Isle.’ He looked straight down the gangway, ignoring the younger countryman, a step behind.
Erik glanced at Sho Pi and said, ‘We’ve got to go below and get our kits. Then we’ll join you on the dock.’
Roo was a step ahead of his friend as they hurried below, bade farewell to the sailors who had become friends, and found Jadow Shati, another of their company of ‘desperate men,’ just finishing gathering up his few possessions.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Roo as he quickly grabbed his small kit.
‘A drink, I’m thinking.’
‘Join us,’ said Erik.
‘I think I will, as soon as I tell Mr Robert de Loungville, the little swine, that I’m taking up his offer of becoming his corporal.’
Erik blinked. ‘Corporal? He offered me the position.’
Before the two men could begin arguing, Roo said, ‘From what he said, he’s going to need more than one.’
The two large men exchanged glances, then both laughed. Jadow’s face settled into a grin, teeth dramatically white against his ebony skin, an expression so happy that it always made Roo smile in response. Like the other desperate men, Jadow had been a killer and lifelong criminal, but in the brotherhood of Calis’s company he had found men for whom he was willing to die and who would die for him.
Roo hated to admit it, as one who flattered himself for being completely selfish, but he loved the survivors of that company almost as much as he loved Erik. Rough men all, dangerous by any standards, they had passed through a bloody trial together, and each knew he could depend on the others.
Roo thought about those lost on the journey: Biggo, the large, laughing thug with a strange streak of piety running through him; Jerome Handy, a giant of a man with a violent temper who could tell a tale like an actor and make shadow play on the wall that came alive; Billy Goodwin, an otherwise gentle youth with a violent temper, who had been cut down in a pointless accident before ever understanding anything of life; and Luis de Savona, the Rodezian cutthroat whose wit was as sharp as his dagger, who knew both court intrigue and dark-alley brawls; a man of temper and strange loyalties. Roo tied his bundle and turned to see both Erik and Jadow watching him.
‘What is it?’
‘You were lost there a moment,’ said Erik.
‘I was thinking about Biggo and the others …’
Erik nodded. ‘I understand.’
‘Maybe some of them will show up when Trenchard’s Revenge gets here,’ ventured Jadow.
Roo said, ‘That would be fine.’ Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he added, ‘But Billy and Biggo won’t.’
Erik nodded. He and Roo had watched Biggo die in Maharta, and Erik had seen Billy fall from his horse, cracking his head on a rock.
The three men were silent as they climbed back on deck and hurried down the gangway to find Robert de Loungville chatting with Nakor and Sho Pi.
‘Hey now, you vile runt of a man!’ said Jadow without ceremony to the man who for nearly three years had controlled his life.
De Loungville turned. ‘Who are you talking to like that, you Valeman scum!’
‘You, Bobby de Loungville, Sergeant sir!’ snapped back Jadow, but Erik could easily see the mocking humor in both men’s expressions. Battle had made him very aware of his companions’ every mood, and he knew they were having fun with each other. ‘And who are you calling “scum"? We men of the Vale are the best fighting men in the world, don’t you know, and we are usually wiping our boots to clean them of something that resembles you.’ He sniffed loudly, bending forward as if to make sure de Loungville was the source of the offending odor. ‘Yes, very much like you.’
De Loungville grabbed one of Jadow’s cheeks and pinched it as a mother does a child’s, saying, ‘You’re so lovely I should kiss you.’ Playfully slapping him on the face, he said, ‘But not today.’
To the group, de Loungville said, ‘Where are you off to?’
‘Drinks!’ said Nakor with a grin.
De Loungville rolled his eyes heavenward. ‘Well, don’t kill anyone.’ He asked Jadow, ‘You coming back?’
Jadow grinned. ‘I don’t know why, but yes.’
His own smile vanishing, de Loungville said, ‘You know exactly why.’
Instantly all humor fled. Each man had seen exactly what the others had, and all knew that a terrible enemy gathered across the sea, and that no matter how much had been accomplished in recent months, the struggle had only just started. A decade or more might pass before the final confrontation with the armies gathered under the banner of the Emerald Queen, but eventually every man living in the Kingdom would either stand and fight or die.
After a moment’s silence, de Loungville waved them down the street. ‘Get away with you. Don’t have too much fun.’ As the men walked off, he called after, ‘Erik, you and Jadow be back here tomorrow to get your papers. On the day after, you’re deserters! And you know we hang deserters!’
‘That man,’ said Jadow as they moved down the street in search of an inn. ‘Always with them threats. He has an unnatural love of hanging, don’t you know?’
Roo laughed and the rest joined in, and the mood lightened as an inn seemed to appear by magic on the corner before them.
Roo awoke, his head pounding and his mouth dry. The inside of his eyes felt as if someone had put sand behind the lids, and his breath smelled as if something had crawled into his mouth and died. He moved and Erik let out a groan, so he moved the other way, only to find Jadow groaning and pushing him away.
With no other choice, he sat up and instantly wished he had remained asleep. He forced himself to keep whatever was in his stomach from coming up and at last managed to focus his eyes.
‘Oh, wonderful,’ he said, and instantly regretted talking. His own voice made his head hurt.
They were in a cell. And unless Roo was mistaken, he knew exactly what cell. It was a long cell, open along one side to a hall, with floor-to-ceiling bars and a door with a heavy iron lock plate. Slightly above head height opposite the bars, a long window, less than two feet in height, ran the length of the cell. He knew the cell was below ground level, as the window was only a foot or so above ground, giving a peculiar angle so those inside the cell could see the scaffold dominating the courtyard beyond. He was now in the death cell beneath the Prince of Krondor’s palace.
He pushed Erik and his friend groaned as if tortured. Roo shook him insistently and at last Erik came awake. ‘What?’ he said as he tried to focus his attention on his friend’s face. ‘Where are we?’
‘Back in the death cell.’
Erik looked instantly sober. He glanced around and saw Nakor curled up in the corner, snoring, while Sho Pi lay a short distance away.
They shook the others awake and took stock. Several of them were splattered with dried blood, and they all nursed an assortment of bruises, scrapes, and cuts. ‘What happened?’ croaked Roo, his voice sounding as if he’d eaten sand.
Jadow said, ‘Those Quegan sailors, remember?’
Sho Pi and Nakor, who seemed, of the company, the least worse for wear, exchanged glances, and Nakor said, ‘One of them tried to remove a young woman from your lap, Roo.’
Roo nodded, then wished he hadn’t. ‘I remember now.’
Jadow said, ‘I hit someone with a chair …’
Nakor said, ‘Maybe we killed those Quegans.’
Erik tried to stay on his feet by leaning against the wall, his knees shaking from his hangover, and said, ‘It would be just the sort of black joke the gods make that after all we have been through, we end up back here waiting for the gallows again.’
Roo felt vaguely guilty, as he always did when he had drunk too much the night before. He was a slight man, so trying to keep up drink for drink with men the size of Jadow and Erik was foolish, even though Erik didn’t have much of a head for drink. ‘If I killed someone, you’d think I’d remember,’ Roo observed.
‘Well, what are we doing back here in the death cell, man?’ asked Jadow from where he sat in the corner, obviously disturbed at their circumstances. ‘I didn’t sail around the world and back again so Bobby de Loungville could finally hang me.’
As they were attempting to gather their wits, the door to the hall was yanked open, clanging into the wall-hard enough to make every man visibly wince. De Loungville walked into view and shouted, ‘On your feet, you swine!’
Without thought, everyone except Nakor leaped to his feet, and each man groaned an instant later. Jadow Shati turned his head and vomited into the chamber pot, then spat. The others stood on unsteady feet, Erik having to grip the bars of the cell to keep himself upright.
With a grin, de Loungville said, ‘What a lovely bunch you are.’
Nakor asked. ‘What are we doing back here, Sergeant?’
De Loungville moved to the cell door and pulled it open, showing it hadn’t been locked, and said, ‘We couldn’t think of anywhere else to put you conveniently. Did you know it took the better part of a full watch of the city guard and a squad of the palace guards to arrest you?’ He beamed like a proud father. ‘Quite a brawl. And you had the good sense not to kill anyone, though you did damage quite a few.’
With a wave, de Loungville indicated they should follow him. ‘Prince Patrick and his uncles felt it was better to keep you lot close by for the rest of the night,’ he said as he led them from the cell.
Roo glanced around and remembered the last time he had seen these passages, as he was being led to the mock hanging that had set his feet upon a path he never could have imagined before leaving his birthplace. The first journey he had made along here was almost lost on him, so far had his mind retreated into terror then. Now he could barely focus because of the abuses of the night before.
He and Erik had fled their lifelong home in Ravensburg after killing Erik’s half brother, Stefan, then Baron of Dark-moor. Had they stayed and faced trial, they might have convinced a judge it was self-defense, but their flight counted heavily against them and they had been sentenced to die.
They reached the steps that led up toward the yard where the gallows stood, but this time they passed them by. De Loungville, the man who had held their lives in his hand from the moment they had fallen to the hard wooden floor of the gallows until they had departed ship the day before, said, ‘You’re a scruffy bunch, so I think we should clean you up a bit before your audience.’
‘Audience?’ asked Erik, still showing signs of damage from the night before. One of the strongest men Roo had ever known – uncontestedly the strongest boy in Ravens-burg – Erik had pitched a guardsman through a window just before another broke a wine jar over his head. Roo couldn’t tell if he had taken more damage from the blow or from the large amounts of wine he had been drinking before the fight started; Erik had never been much of a drinker.
‘Some important men would like a word with you. It wouldn’t do to have you in court looking as you do. Now,’ he said, pushing open a door, ‘strip off!’
Hot tubs of soapy water waited and the men did as they were bidden. Two years of following de Loungville’s orders without question had formed a habit too hard to break, and soon the five men were sitting in tubs, letting palace pages sponge them down.
Pitchers of cold water were provided and the men all drank their fill. Between the very hot bath and the large amounts of cold water he drank, Roo began to feel again that life might be worth living.
When clean, they discovered their clothing had been removed. De Loungville pointed to two black tunics with a familiar mark upon the breast. Erik picked one up and said, ‘The Crimson Eagle.’
De Loungville said, ‘Nicholas thought it fitting and Calis didn’t object. It’s the banner of our new army, Erik. You and Jadow are my first two corporals, so put those on.’ To the others he said, ‘There’s some clean clothing over there.’
Nakor and Sho Pi both looked odd in the clean tunic and trousers instead of the usual robes they affected, but Roo found his own appearance improved dramatically. The tunic might be a little large for his diminutive frame, but it was certainly the finest weave he had ever worn, and the trousers fit perfectly. He was still barefoot, but months at sea had toughened his feet to the point he didn’t think twice about it.
Erik retained his worn boots, but Jadow, like the others, went barefoot.
After they dressed, the men followed de Loungville into a familiar hall; here the men of Calis’s desperate company had stood trial before the Prince of Krondor – at the time, Nicholas. The hall hadn’t changed much, Roo thought, but he realized that his mind had been so numb from terror the last time he had been there he had barely noticed his surroundings.
Ancient banners hung from every ceiling beam, casting the hall into shadow as they cut the light from windows high in the vaulted ceiling. Torches burned in sconces along the wall to provide illumination, for despite the large windows in the far wall, the hall was immense enough the light did not reach far enough. Roo considered he would have the banners removed, were he the Prince.
Along the walls stood courtiers and pages ready to do the royal bidding at a moment’s notice, and a formally attired Master of Ceremony struck the floor with an iron-shod staff of office, announcing Robert de Loungville, Baron of the Court and Special Agent of the Prince. Roo shook his head slightly in amusement, for de Loungville was the company’s sergeant, and to think of him as a court baron was too alien a task.
Members of the court watched as the squad came to stand before the throne. Roo calculated as best he could the worth of the gold used to decorate the candle holders along the near wall, and decided the Prince could better use his wealth by replacing them with brass – highly decorative, but far less costly, freeing up wealth to invest in the proper enterprise. Then he wondered if he might be allowed to speak to the Prince on just such a subject.
Thinking of the Prince returned Roo’s attention to the man who had once pronounced the death sentence upon him. Nicholas, now his nephew’s Admiral of the Western Fleet, stood to one side of the throne beside his successor, Prince Patrick. To the other side stood Calis and the man Roo knew to be James, Duke of Krondor, speaking to the man they had seen on the docks, Patrick’s uncle Prince Erland. And sitting upon the throne was his twin. Roo suddenly flushed when he realized they were being presented to the King!
‘Your Majesty, Highnesses,’ said de Loungville with a courtly bow, ‘I have the honor to present five men who acquitted themselves with bravery and honor.’
‘Only five survived?’ asked King Borric. He and his brother were both large men, but there was an edge to the King, a toughness beyond his brother’s own powerful appearance. Roo couldn’t rightly judge the why of such things, but he instinctively considered the King a more dangerous opponent than Prince Erland.
‘There are others,’ said de Loungville. ‘Some will be presented this afternoon at court – soldiers from your various garrisons. But these are the only ones to survive from among the condemned.’
Nakor said, ‘That we know of.’
De Loungville turned with a look of irritation on his face at the breach of protocol, but Borric only grinned. ‘Nakor, is that you in that getup?’
Returning the King’s smile, Nakor moved forward. ‘It’s me, Majesty. I went, too, and came back. Greylock is with the other ship, and any others who survived and made their way to the City of the Serpent River will be with him.’
De Loungville bit back anything he was going to say to Nakor. It was obvious that he and the King knew each other. Nakor nodded toward Erland, who also smiled at the sight of the little Isalani.
To the four prisoners the King said, ‘You are all pardoned, your crimes and your sentences are vacated.’ Glancing at Erik and Jadow, he said, ‘We see you’ve taken service.’
Erik merely nodded, while Jadow stammered, ‘Ye-yes, Majesty.’
Looking at Sho Pi and Roo, the King said, ‘You have not.’
Sho Pi bowed his head. ‘I will follow my master, Majesty.’
Nakor said, ‘Stop calling me master!’ He turned toward the King. ‘The boy thinks me some sort of sage and insists upon traipsing around after me.’
Prince Erland said, ‘I wonder why. It wouldn’t be because he saw you pulling your “mystic sage” scam, would it, Nakor?’
‘Or is it the “wandering priest” dodge?’ asked the King.
Nakor grinned as he rubbed his chin. ‘Actually, I haven’t tried those in a while.’ Then his expression darkened. ‘And I never should have told you two about them when we rode back from Kesh.’
The King said, ‘Well, take him along with you, then. You could probably do with an extra set of hands on the road.’
Nakor said, ‘On the road? I’m returning to Sorcerer’s Isle.’
The King said, ‘Not for a while. We need you to go to Stardock on the Crown’s behalf, to speak with the leaders of the Academy.’
Nakor’s expression darkened. ‘You know I’m quits with Stardock, Borric, and you have a good idea why, I have no doubt.’
If the King objected to being addressed so informally, he didn’t show it as he said, ‘We know, but you also have seen firsthand what we’re up against, and you’ve been to Novindus twice. We need you to persuade the magicians at Stardock what stands against us. We will need their help.’
‘Find Pug. They’ll listen to him,’ said Nakor.
‘If we could find him, we would,’ said the King. He leaned back in the deep well of the throne and sighed. ‘He’s been leaving messages here and there, but we’ve not managed to get him to come speak with us in person.’
‘Try harder,’ answered Nakor.
Borric smiled. ‘You, friend, are the best we’ve got. So, unless you want us to let every gambling hall in the Kingdom get word about how you can handle cards and dice, you’ll do this one little favor for an old friend.’
Nakor made a disgusted expression and waved his hand as if dismissing the King’s remark. ‘Bah! I liked you better when you were just the Madman.’ He held his sour look for a moment while Borric and Erland exchanged amused glances.
Turning his attention to Roo, the King said, ‘And what of you, Rupert Avery? Can we not enlist your aid as well?’
The King’s direct address caused Roo to forget momentarily how to speak; then he swallowed hard and said, ‘Sorry, Majesty. I promised myself if I lived long enough, I’d come back and get rich. That’s what I propose to do. I’m going to be a man of commerce, and I can’t do that in the army.’
The King nodded. ‘Commerce? We suppose it’s a better trade than many you could choose.’ He avoided any further remarks about Roo’s past. ‘Still, you’ve seen what few men outside our service have seen. We count upon your discretion, and if our meaning isn’t clear, we expect your discretion.’
Roo smiled. ‘I understand, Majesty. And I will promise this much when the time comes, I’ll help in whatever way I can. If those snakes come here, I’ll fight.’ Then with a twinkle and a smile he added, ‘Besides, the day may come when I can be of more use to you than just another sword.’
‘Perhaps, Rupert Avery,’ said King Borric. ‘You certainly do not lack for ambition.’ He waved over Lord James and said, ‘If it doesn’t compromise our dignity, see if we can be of a little help in getting Mr Avery’s career under way. Perhaps a letter of introduction or some such.’ He then waved over a squire who carried five bags, which were distributed one to each of the men. ‘A thank-you from your King.’
Roo hefted the bag and knew inside there was gold and could even estimate the worth from the weight. He quickly calculated he was already a year ahead of schedule in his plan to become wealthy. Then he noticed the others were bowing and moving away, so he quickly made an awkward bow to the King and hurried after the others.
Outside the hall, de Loungville said, ‘Well then, now you’re free men again.’ To Jadow and Erik he said, ‘Stay out of trouble and be back here on the first day of next month.’ To Nakor and Sho Pi he said, ‘The King’s messages will be ready tomorrow. See Duke James’s secretary, and he’ll give you travel warrants and money.’
He turned to Roo and said, ‘You’re a rodent, Avery, but I’ve come to love that pinched-off little face of yours. If you change your mind, I can use another experienced soldier.’
Roo shook his head. ‘Thanks, Sergeant, but I’ve got to find a merchant with a homely daughter and start making my fortune.’
To the assembled men, de Loungville said, ‘If you must enjoy the pleasures of the flesh before returning home, go to the Sign of the White Wing, over near the Merchants’ Gate. It’s a brothel of high standard, so don’t track mud inside. Tell the lady who meets you that I sent you. She may never forgive me, but she owes me a favor. See you don’t cause a riot there, because I can’t bail you out two nights running.’ Looking from face to face, he said, ‘All things considered, you did well, lads.’
No one spoke until Erik said, ‘Thank you, Sergeant.’
To Jadow and Erik, de Loungville said, ‘Stop by the Knight-Marshal’s office on your way out and get your warrants. You’re the Prince’s men, and from this day forward you answer only to Patrick, Calis, and me.’
Erik said, ‘Where?’
‘Down this hall and turn right, second door on the left. Now get out of here,’ said de Loungville, ‘before I change my mind and have you arrested again for being such a bunch of ruffians.’ He sent Roo down the hall with a playful slap to the side of the head, then turned and set out on his own affairs.
The five men walked down the hall and Nakor said, ‘I’m hungry.’
‘You’re always hungry, man,’ said Jadow with a laugh. ‘My head is still reminding me that I was not wise last night. My stomach hasn’t forgiven me either.’ Then he paused, and added, ‘But I might do with a bite to eat, after all that.’
Erik laughed. ‘I’m hungry, too.’
‘Then let us find an inn –’ said Nakor.
‘A quiet inn,’ Roo interjected.
‘– a quiet inn,’ continued Nakor, ‘and eat.’
‘Then what, Master?’ asked Sho Pi.
Nakor grimaced, but said only, ‘Then we go to the Sign of the White Wing, boy.’ He shook his head. Pointing to Sho Pi, he said to the others, ‘This one has much to learn.’
The Sign of the White Wing was nothing like what Roo expected. Then he considered he really hadn’t known what to expect. He had trafficked with whores before, but that had been on the line of march, with camp followers who would tumble a man beside to his comrades and be off to the next as soon as he could count out her pay.
But this was a different world. The five slightly inebriated men had had to ask several times to find their way. After a few failed attempts, they finally discovered a modest building near the edge of the Merchants’ Quarter. The sign out front had been almost impossible to make out, being little more than a simple metal wing painted white, unlike the more boldly painted large ones marking more traditional trades.
The door had been opened by a servant who admitted the five without a word, indicating they should wait in a tiny anteroom, without furnishing of any sort, only decorated by some nondescript tapestries that hung on the two side walls. Opposite the entrance stood another door, of simple painted wood. When it opened, a well-dressed if somewhat matronly woman had stepped through.
‘Yes?’ she had asked.
The men glanced at one another, and it was Nakor who had at last answered. ‘We were told to come here.’
‘By whom?’ she then asked, looking somewhat unconvinced.
‘Robert de Loungville,’ said Erik softly, as if afraid to raise his voice.
Instantly the woman’s features had transformed themselves from dubious to joyful. ‘Bobby de Loungville! By the gods, if you’re friends of Bobby’s, you’re welcome here.’
She then clapped her hands once and the door she had slipped through opened wide, revealing a short entryway occupied by two large armed guards. As they stepped aside, Roo thought it clear they had been standing by to ensure the safety of the woman.
‘I’m Jamila, your hostess, and here,’ she said, reaching another door, which she pulled wide, ‘we enter the House of the White Wing.’
The five men gaped. Even Nakor, who had seen riches in the court of the Empress of Great Kesh, stood in stunned awe. The room wasn’t that opulent; far from it. In fact it was the lack of gaudy displays of wealth that made the setting so impressive. Everything about the room was subtle and tasteful, though Roo would have been hard put to say what made it seem so. Chairs and divans were placed around the room so that those inside would be within sight of one another, yet there was a clear sense of each area being apart from the others. This was made abundantly clear by the fact of a wealthy-looking man sprawling upon one divan, sipping wine from a goblet while two lovely young women attended him. One sat upon the floor, allowing him to caress her shoulders and neck, while the other hovered over him, offering him sweetmeats from a gilded tray.
As if by magic, girls appeared through several curtains. All were modestly dressed, like the two attending the man already in the room, wearing loose-fitting gowns of light material. That they were covered from neck to ankle did nothing to hide the curves of their bodies as they moved to greet their guests.
Each man found a pair of girls leading him toward one of the chairs or divans, allowing him to choose how he wished to relax, sitting or lying down. Before he knew it, Roo had been led to a divan and gently pushed down on it, had his feet raised and placed on the divan, had a goblet of wine handed to him; one of the girls began firmly kneading the muscles in his shoulders before he spoke.
The woman called Jamila said, ‘When you’re ready, the girls can show you to your rooms.’
Jadow, circling the waist of one of the young girls with one powerful arm, pulled her toward him, planted a loud kiss upon her cheek, and said, ‘Men and gods, I’ve died and gone to paradise!’
This brought a round of laughter, and Roo settled back, letting the light touch of the girl’s hands relax him in a way he’d not experienced in years.
• Chapter Two • Homecoming (#ulink_38a37e7f-2df8-54fe-9d5f-e7ec0966e121)
Roo yawned.
The body next to him stirred under white sheets and he realized where he was. He smiled, remembering the night before, and ran his hand under the sheet and across the back of the young woman next to him. He didn’t think of her as a whore; the term was fit for the women who followed soldiers around camp, or who leaned over the balconies in the Poor Quarter of Krondor shouting ribald suggestions and insults at the workers and sailors below, but these ladies, he decided, were unlike anything he had imagined as a boy.
They were flirtatious, seemed well educated, were impeccable in their manners, and, as Roo had discovered the night before, creative and enthusiastic. The young woman next to him had taught Roo more things about pleasing a woman and himself in one night than he had learned from every woman he had been with in his young life. And they smelled wonderful, like flowers and spices. He found himself becoming aroused and with a grin continued to caress the body next to him.
The girl awoke, and if she had any problem with being awakened thus, she masked it with incredible skill; she actually seemed pleased to discover Roo lying next to her.
‘Good morning,’ she said with a wide smile. Running her fingers along his stomach, she said, ‘What a nice way to wake up.’
As he gathered the girl into his arms, Roo considered himself fortunate. He had no illusions about his looks; he was easily the homeliest boy from Ravensburg, but he had managed to bed two of the local girls in town before he and Erik had been forced to flee. He knew, given enough time, he could charm most anyone, though he rarely tried. But now he was alive, with gold in his belt, and a woman willing to make him feel handsome. It was the start of a wonderful day.
Later he bid the girl good-bye, realizing that he couldn’t remember if her name was Mary or Marie. He found Erik already dressed and waiting in the antechamber, speaking with a particularly pretty young blonde.
Erik looked up. ‘Ready to leave?’
Roo nodded. ‘The others?’
‘We’ll see them when we get back from Ravensburg, or at least I will.’ He rose and was still holding on to the girl’s hand.
There was something about his manner that struck Roo as odd, and as they left the brothel, he remarked, ‘You seemed smitten with that pretty girl.’
Erik blushed. ‘Nothing of the kind. She’s …’
After a silent moment, Roo supplied, ‘A whore?’
The city was busy at that hour of the morning, and they were forced to wend their way through the press. Erik said, ‘I guess. Something more like a lady, I think.’
Roo shrugged, the gesture lost on Erik. ‘They get paid well, that’s for certain.’ He was now considering the diminishment of his purse as he weighed the cost versus the reward. He decided he needed to husband his capital a bit more carefully. There were far less expensive whores to be found.
‘Where to next?’ asked Roo.
‘I need to talk to Sebastian Lender.’
Roo brightened. Barret’s Coffee House was one of the places he wished to visit, and having a social call to make upon one of the solicitors who plied their business there was an eminently acceptable reason.
They headed to the area of the city known locally as the Merchants’ Quarter, even though it held only a slightly higher percentage of businesses than elsewhere in the city. What marked the Merchants’ Quarter was a high number of very costly homes, many erected behind or above the stores that generated their wealth, the highest concentration of influential men who were not nobility.
The craftsmen had their guilds – the thieves, too: the Mockers – and the nobility had their rank from birth, but men who pursued their fortune through commerce and trade had only their wits. While a few of them had banded together to create trade associations from time to time, more were independent businessmen without allies but with many competitors.
So those who survived and became successful had few peers with whom to share their pride of accomplishment, few fellows with whom to boast of their good fortune and perspicacity. A few, like a merchant Roo had met named Helmut Grindle, kept their appearance modest, as if to call attention to themselves might bring ruin. But others chose to shout their success to the world by building huge town houses, rivaling those owned by the nobility, throughout the city. And over the years the nature of the Merchants’ Quarter had changed.
As more and more rich merchants purchased property in the area, the cost of land rose so high that now few businesses in the Merchants’ Quarter were owned by those who lived there; the price of housing was too dear. There were a few modest storefront enterprises, established by the fathers or grandfathers of those tending them now, that continued to provide conventional goods and services to those in the area – a bakery on one street, a cobbler on another – but they were quickly being replaced by shops specializing in luxurious items for these very wealthy merchants: jewelers, tailors of the finest clothing, and traders in rare goods. And those who lived in the Merchants’ Quarter were now almost exclusively these very wealthy businessmen, those with far-flung financial empires elsewhere in the province or in distant cities. In time the last of the modest merchants would sell their property, as the offers to buy became too good to refuse, and relocate to more distant quarters in the foulburg, that expanding portion of the city beyond the old wall.
Barret’s Coffee House stood at the corner of a street now known as Arutha’s Way, in honor of the late Prince of Krondor, father to the King – but still called by most locals Sandy Beach Walk – and Miller’s Road, a route that had once led from a mill no longer extant to a farmer’s gate long torn down. Barret’s was a tall building, three stories, with two open doors at the corner, one on each street. Standing in each door was a waiter: a man with a white tunic, black trousers, black boots, and a blue-and-white-striped apron.
The three other street corners were occupied by a tavern, a ship’s broker, and, diagonally across the street from Barret’s, an abandoned home. It had once been splendid, perhaps one of the finest in Krondor, but misfortune had cost its owner dearly from all appearances. It had been neglected long before it was abandoned, and its past glory was now faded by peeling paint, boarded-up windows, missing tiles from the roof, and dirt everywhere.
Roo glanced at that building. ‘Maybe someday I’ll buy that house and fix it up.’
Erik smiled. ‘I don’t doubt it, Roo.’
Roo and Erik walked past the waiter standing at the door on Miller’s Road, and entered. The two outside doors opened on a simple receiving area, offering several well-upholstered chairs, but otherwise closed off from the main floor of the coffee house by a wooden railing. There was one opening in the railing blocked by a man attired in a manner similar to the two waiters at the door. The main difference was that his apron was black.
A tall man, he looked eye to eye at Erik, then down at Roo as he said, ‘Yes?’
Erik said, ‘We’ve come to see Sebastian Lender.’
The man nodded. ‘Follow me, please.’ He turned and walked onto the main floor of the coffee house.
Roo and Erik followed and were led through a large area of small tables, several occupied by men drinking coffee, while waiters hurried from table to table. To the left as they reached the center of the room a broad flight of stairs led up to a balcony rather than a true second floor, leaving the center of the room open to the high vaulted ceiling. Looking up, Roo saw there was no third floor, but rather a double set of high windows above the second-floor balcony. Barret’s was a very open, well-lit building as a result. They reached another waist-high railing, which cut off the rear third of the room, and there the waiter said, ‘Please wait here.’
The waiter moved a small section of the rail that was on hinges, and stepped through and toward a table at the far side of the house. Roo motioned upward and Erik’s eyes went to where he pointed.
Above them, on the second-floor landing, men sat at tables. Roo said, ‘The brokers.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’ve heard a thing or two,’ said Roo.
Erik laughed and shook his head. Most likely he had heard it from Helmut Grindle, the trader they had traveled with for a while when coming to Krondor. Roo and Grindle had spoken of many things commercial, and while Erik had found some of the conversation diverting, as often as not it put him to sleep.
A moment later, a dignified-looking man wearing an unadorned but expensive tunic with an overvest and cravat approached. He studied the two young men before him for a moment, then said, ‘My word! Young von Darkmoor and Mr Avery, if I’m not mistaken.’
Roo nodded as Erik said, ‘Yes, Mr Lender. We gained our pardon.’
‘Most unusual,’ said Lender. He motioned for the waiter to open the railing for him to step through. ‘Only members are permitted behind this second railing.’ He indicated with a wave of his hand that Roo and Erik should sit at an empty table a few feet away.
He motioned for the waiter and said, ‘Three coffees.’ Looking at Roo and Erik, he asked, ‘Have you broken fast today?’ When they answered in the negative, he said to the waiter, ‘Some rolls, jams and honey, and a platter of cheese and sausage.’
As the waiter hurried off, Lender said, ‘As you are pardoned, you obviously do not need my services as a solicitor, so perhaps you need them as a litigator?’
Erik said, ‘Not really. I came to pay you your fee.’
Lender began to object, but Erik said, ‘I know you refused to take gold before, but despite your having lost the pleading, we are here and alive, so I think you’re entitled to your fee.’ He produced his money pouch and put it upon the table. It clinked with the heavy sound of gold coins.
Lender said, ‘You’ve prospered, young gentlemen.’
‘It’s a payment for services from the Prince,’ said Roo.
Shrugging, Lender opened the purse, counted out fifteen golden sovereigns, then closed the purse, pushing it back toward Erik. He pocketed the coins.
‘Is that enough?’ asked Erik.
‘Had I won, I would have charged you fifty,’ said Lender as the coffee arrived.
Roo had never cared for coffee, so he sipped at it, expecting to put aside the cup and ignore it. But to his surprise, instead of the bitter brew he had tasted before, this was a rich complex taste. ‘This is good!’ he blurted.
Erik laughed and tried his, then said, ‘It is.’
‘Keshian,’ said Lender. ‘Far superior to what is grown in the Kingdom. More flavor, less bitterness.’ He waved his hand around the room. ‘Barret’s is the first establishment in Krondor to specialize exclusively in fine coffees, and as a sign of his wisdom, the founder placed his first shop here in the heart of the Merchants’ Quarter, rather than trying to sell to the nobility.’
Roo instantly came alert; stories of success appealed to him. ‘Why is that?’ he asked.
‘Because the nobility are difficult to approach, expect extreme discounts, and rarely pay in a timely fashion.’
Roo laughed. ‘I’ve heard that from the wine merchants at home.’
Lender continued. ‘Mr Barret knew that the local businessmen often needed a place away from their homes or offices where they could discuss business over a meal, without the distractions of an inn’s taproom.’
Erik again nodded, having spent a fair part of his life in the taproom of the inn where he had worked as a child.
‘So was born Barret’s Coffee House, which prospered from the first week it was opened. Originally a more modest enterprise, it has existed for nearly seventy-five years, in this location for close to sixty.’
‘What about the brokers, and syndicates, and … you?’ asked Roo.
Lender smiled as a tray of hot rolls, breakfast meats, cheeses, and fruits, along with pots of jam, honey, and butter, was brought to the table.
Suddenly hungry, Roo took a roll and slathered butter and honey on it while Lender answered him. ‘Some of those without offices of their own used to conduct business all day long and, to keep Barret happy, would buy coffee, tea, and food in a steady stream. Seeing this as a pleasant alternative to hours of empty tables between meals, Mr Barret ensured certain tables would remain reserved for those businessmen.
‘They formed the first syndicates and brokerage alliances. And they needed representation’ – he put his hand upon his chest and bowed slightly – ‘hence litigators and solicitors became habitués of the establishment. When things became crowded, the son of the founder moved to this inn, tore out the third floor, and created the exclusive members’ area above, and things have continued that way since.’ He motioned at the second rail. ‘Some members were forced to use this end of the ground floor, hence the newer railing. Now one must purchase a location in the hall for one’s syndicate or brokerage, or risk not having a table at which to sit when arriving to conduct business.’
Glancing around, he added, ‘You now are in the heart of one of the most important trading centers in the Kingdom, certainly the most important in the Western Realm, and rivaled only by those in Rillanon, Kesh, and Queg.’
‘How does one become a broker?’ asked Roo.
‘First you need money,’ answered the litigator, not in the least put off by the youngster seeking instruction. ‘A great deal of money. This is why there are so many syndicates, because of the great cost of underwriting many of the projects that are conceived of here at Barret’s or brought to us from the outside.’
‘How does one start?’ asked Roo. ‘I mean, I have some money, but I’m not sure if I want to invest it here or try my own hand.’
‘No partnership will admit an investor without good cause,’ said Lender. He sipped his coffee, then continued. ‘Over the years a complex set of rules has evolved. Noble-men often come to Barret’s seeking either to invest wealth or to borrow it, and as a result, the interests of those here who are commoners need to be closely protected. So, to join a syndicate, one needs a great deal of money – though not as much as to become an independent broker – and one also needs a sponsor.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Roo.
‘One who is already a member of Barret’s or who has close ties to one of the members who can vouch for you. If you have the capital, then you need the introduction.’
‘Can’t you do that?’ asked Roo, obviously eager.
‘No,’ said Lender with a slightly sad smile. ‘For all my influence and position, here I am but a guest. My office has been here for nearly twenty-five years, but only because I work on behalf of nearly thirty different brokers and syndicates, and I have never placed a copper piece of my own capital at risk through any offering.’
‘What’s an offering?’ asked Erik.
Lender put up his hand. ‘There are more questions than time, young von Darkmoor.’ He signaled to one of the ever-present waiters. ‘In my property box you’ll find a long blue velvet bag. Please bring it here.’ To Erik and Roo he said, ‘I enjoy the break from the routine, but time doesn’t permit a leisurely discourse on the business at Barret’s.’
Roo said, ‘I plan on being a broker.’
‘Do you?’ said Lender, and his face lit up with delight. His expression wasn’t mocking, but he seemed to find the pronouncement entertaining. ‘What is this venture, then, that you spoke of?’
Roo leaned back. ‘It’s a plan I have that would take too long to speak of, I’m sorry to say.’
Lender laughed while Erik blushed at his friend’s bold freshness. ‘Well said,’ answered Lender.
‘Besides, added Roo, ‘I think discretion is in order.’
‘Often that is the case,’ agreed Lender as the waiter returned with the requested item. Lender took the velvet bag and opened it, removing a dagger. It was a deftly fashioned thing, with a sheath of ivory set with a small ruby and bound at the top and tip with gold. He handed it to Erik. ‘It was the other part of your legacy from your father.’
Erik took the dagger and pulled the blade from the sheath. ‘Impressive,’ he said. ‘I may not be as well practiced with weapons at the forge as I am with horseshoes, but this is fine work.’
‘From Rodez, I believe,’ said Lender.
‘Best steel in the Kingdom,’ agreed Erik. The blade was embossed with the von Darkmoor family crest, finely cut into the steel, and yet it was well balanced, both decorative and deadly. The hilt was carved bone, perhaps from the antler of an elk or moose, and capped with gold to match the sheath.
Lender pushed back his chair. ‘Young sirs, I must be back to my business, but please feel free to linger awhile and refresh yourselves. If you ever have need of a solicitor or a litigator, you know where to find me.’ He waved vaguely at the place from which he had appeared and added, ‘Goodbye. It was good seeing you well.’
Erik rose, as did Roo, and they bade their host farewell, then looked at each other. As old friends do, they shared a single thought between them, and Roo said, ‘Home.’
They moved through the crowded common room of Barret’s, a place both strange and exciting to Roo, and exited. At the door, Erik turned to one of the waiters and asked, ‘Where can a man buy a good horse?’
‘Cheaply!’ injected Roo.
The waiter didn’t hesitate. ‘At the Merchants’ Gate,’ he said, pointing along Arutha’s Way, ‘you’ll find several dealers. Most are thieves, but there’s a man named Morgan there who can be trusted. Tell him Jason at Barret’s sent you and he’ll treat you fairly.’
Roo studied the young man’s face. Brown hair and light freckles marked him and Roo said, ‘I’ll remember you if he doesn’t.’
The young man frowned, ever so slightly, but said only, ‘He’s honest, sir.’
‘What about new clothing?’ ask Erik.
Jason said, ‘The tailor at New Gate Road and Broad Street is a cousin of mine, sir. Tell him I sent you and he’ll see you right for a reasonable sum.’
Roo didn’t look convinced, but Erik said thanks and led his friend away. They remained silent as they wended their way through the crowded city streets. It took them the better part of an hour to reach the tailor’s and an hour to select clothing for travel that fit. Erik chose a riding cloak to cover his uniform tunic, and Roo purchased an inexpensive tunic and trousers, a cloak, and a slouch hat. Erik also found a cobbler who provided him with a pair of boots to wear while those left him by his father were mended. Roo had gotten used to going barefoot while aboard ship, but purchased a pair of boots for riding.
Soon after they were at the Merchants’ Gate and spent another hour haggling for a pair of horses, but the waiter had been truthful with them and Morgan was an honest trader. Erik picked out two sturdy geldings, a bay for himself and a grey for Roo. Leading the horses away with rope halters, they found a saddler, a half-block away and quickly had the horses tacked up and ready to ride.
Roo settled into the saddle and said, ‘I don’t care how much I do it, I’ll never get to like riding.’
Erik laughed. ‘You’ve become a better than average horseman, Roo, despite your objections. And this time you can ride without much worry about having to fight while on that creature’s back.’
Roo’s expression darkened.
Erik said, ‘What?’
‘What’s this “much” business?’
Erik laughed even louder. ‘There are no guarantees in this life, my friend.’ So saying, he put heels to sides, and the horse moved out briskly toward the Merchants’ Gate and the road eastward. ‘On to Ravensburg!’ he shouted.
Roo could only laugh at his friend’s merriment, and he followed suit, discovering that this horse was inclined to argue with every command. Taking a firm hand, and knowing that the sooner the battle was fought the sooner it was won, Roo slammed his heels hard against the horse’s sides and drove him after Erik’s mount. Quickly they were outside the city wall, on their way home.
Rain pelted them, its insistent beat a physical assault. Night was rapidly approaching and the only traffic on the road was local businessmen and farmers hurrying home. A resigned wagon driver barely looked over at Roo and Erik passing as he urged his slowly plodding horses to continue through the mud. The King’s Highway might be the artery that carried the lifeblood of commerce from one border to the other, but when the rains came to the Barony of Darkmoor, the blood didn’t flow, it oozed.
Erik shouted, ‘Lights.’
Roo looked out from under the sodden brim of his once handsome slouch hat. ‘Wilhelmsburg?’
‘I think,’ said Erik. ‘We’ll be home by tomorrow afternoon.’
‘I don’t suppose I could convince you to sleep in some stranger’s barn, could I?’ said Roo, having spent more money on this journey than he had planned.
‘No,’ answered Erik without humor. ‘I’m for a dry bed and a hot meal.’
That image overcame Roo’s reluctance to spend another coin, and he followed his friend toward the lights of the town. They found a modest inn, with a sign of a plowshare swinging in the wind, and rode through the side gate to the stable. Erik shouted, and a lackey came out, bundled against the weather, to take the horses. He listened politely to Erik’s instructions and nodded, and Erik assumed he would be wise to return after supper to see the boy cared for the animals as he ordered.
They hurried into the taproom and, once inside, shook off the water from their cloaks.
‘Evening, sirs,’ said a young girl, pleasant-looking, with brown hair and eyes. ‘Will you be needing rooms for the night?’
‘Yes,’ said Roo, obviously displeased at the cost, but now that warmth was returning to his bones glad they were not returning to the weather outside.
‘Fit to be blowing up a rare storm tonight,’ said the innkeeper as he came and took their cloaks and hats. ‘Will you be dining?’ He handed the cloaks and hats to the girl, who took them somewhere warm to hang and dry.
‘Yes,’ said Erik. ‘What wine have you?’
‘Fit for a lord,’ said the man with a smile.
‘Any from Ravensburg?’ asked Erik as he made his way to an empty table.
Save for a solitary man with a sword in the far corner and two merchants obviously taking their ease before the fireplace, the inn was deserted. The innkeeper followed them, ‘We do, sir. It’s the next town over, then one more, and on to Ravensburg.’
‘So we are in Wilhelmsburg,’ said Roo.
‘Yes,’ answered the innkeeper. ‘Are you familiar with the area?’
‘We’re from Ravensburg,’ answered Erik. ‘It’s just been a while since we’ve been there and in the darkness we weren’t sure which town this was.’
‘Bring us some wine, please,’ asked Roo, ‘then supper.’
The meal was filling, if not memorable, and the wine better than expected; it clearly had a style and finish familiar to both Roo and Erik. It was the common wine of Ravens-burg, but compared to what they had been drinking the last year and more, this seemed a bottle fit for the King’s table. Both young men fell into a quiet mood, anticipating the homecoming the next day.
For Roo it was nothing much to do with his past; his immediate family was his father, Tom Avery, a drunken teamster whose only legacy to Roo had been beatings and teaching him to drive a team of horses. Roo was much more interested in seeking out some minor wine merchants he knew and arranging what he hoped would be the start of his rise to riches.
For Erik it was coming home to his mother and the shattered dream of his youth: a blacksmith’s forge and a family. He had served old Tyndal the smith for years before Tyndal’s death, then a year and more with Nathan, who had been the closest thing to a father he had known. But life took its own course, and nothing seemed to be as he had hoped it would, when he was a child in Ravensburg.
‘What are you thinking?’ asked Roo. ‘You’ve been quiet a long time.’
‘You haven’t exactly been bending my ear,’ replied Erik, a smile on his face. ‘Just about home and what it was like before.’
He didn’t have to say before what. Roo knew: before a struggle with Erik’s half brother Stefan ended up with Roo’s dagger driven into Stefan’s chest as Erik held him. After that they had fled Ravensburg and had not seen friend or family since.
Roo said, ‘I wonder if anyone told them we live?’
Erik laughed. ‘If they didn’t, our arrival tomorrow will be something of a surprise.’
The door opened and the howl of the wind caused the two young men to turn. Four soldiers in the garb of the barony entered, cursing the night’s foul weather.
‘Innkeeper!’ shouted the corporal as he removed his sopping great cloak. ‘Hot food and mulled wine!’ He glanced around the room, then his gaze returned to Roo and Erik. His eyes widened.
‘Von Darkmoor!’ he blurted. The other three soldiers fanned out, not quite sure why their corporal had called out their Baron’s name, but clearly alerted to trouble by his tone.
Erik and Roo stood, and the two merchants moved away from their chairs before the fireplace, hugging the wall. The only other person in the room, the swordsman, looked on with interest, but didn’t move.
The corporal had his sword out, and as Roo made to draw his own, Erik motioned for him to return it to its scabbard. ‘We’re not looking for trouble, Corporal.’
The corporal said, ‘We heard you’d been hung. I don’t know how you and your scrawny friend escaped, but we’ll soon put that right. Seize them.’
Roo said, ‘Wait a minute –’
The men moved quickly, but Erik and Roo were both quicker, and the first two soldiers who laid hands upon them found themselves on the floor, their heads ringing from swift blows. The two merchants spied a pathway past the trouble and beat a hasty exit from the room, running outside into the rain without their hats or coats. The man at the table laughed. ‘Well done!’ he shouted.
The corporal leveled his sword and thrust, but Erik slipped aside and had him by the wrist before he could react. One of the strongest men Roo had ever seen, Erik also had been trained in barehanded combat, and his iron grip wrung the corporal’s sword from his fingers as he gasped in pain.
Roo simply thrust with his hand, palm out, fingers extended, and delivered a sharp blow with the heel of his hand upward to the chin of the other standing soldier, who went down in a stunned heap.
‘Wait a minute!’ commanded Erik in the voice he had developed as Robert de Loungville’s corporal on their return from Novindus. The other two soldiers, who were slowly standing, hesitated, and Erik shouted his command: ‘Hold, damn you!’
He released the corporal’s wrist while kicking aside his sword so he couldn’t reach for it easily, then showed that his hands were empty of weapons. ‘I have a paper.’ He reached slowly inside his tunic, removed the document given him the day before by an officer in the office of the Knight-Marshal of Krondor, and handed it to the corporal.
The man took it and glanced it over. ‘Got the seal of Krondor at the bottom,’ he grudgingly admitted, while still sitting on the floor. Then his eyes lowered as he said, ‘Can’t read.’
The swordsman stood and with a relaxed air moved to Erik’s side. ‘If I may help, Corporal,’ he said, extending his hand.
The corporal handed back the document and the man read aloud: ‘Know you by my hand and seal that Erik von Darkmoor is sworn to my service and …’ His eyes glanced to the bottom of the document. ‘It’s a lot of mumbo-jumbo, Corporal. The short of it is you just tried to arrest one of Prince Nicholas’s personal guards. A corporal, like yourself, it says.’
‘A fact?’ asked the corporal, his eyes widened.
‘Yes, not only is the document signed by the Duke of Krondor’s own Knight-Marshal, the Prince himself signed it.’
‘True?’ was the corporal’s next remark as he slowly rose to his feet.
‘True,’ answered the stranger. ‘And from the way he took your sword from you, I think there’s a reason he’s in the Prince’s personal service.’
The corporal rubbed his wrist. ‘Well, perhaps.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But we heard nothing about this, and last time Erik’s name was mentioned it was when we heard he was to be hung for killing the young Baron.’
Erik sighed. ‘The Prince pardoned us.’
‘So you say,’ said the corporal. ‘But I think me and the boys will hurry back to Darkmoor and see what Lord Manfred has to say about this.’
He picked up his sword and signaled to his men to depart. One of them shook his head in disgust at forgoing a hot meal and the other threw Erik and Roo a black look as he helped the one Roo had stunned back to his feet.
That man, still trying to focus his eyes, said, ‘We’re leaving? Did we eat? Is it morning?’
The other said, ‘Shut up, Bluey. A bit of that cutting rain will sort you out, quick like.’
The soldiers left the inn and Erik turned to the stranger. ‘Thanks.’
The man shrugged. ‘If I hadn’t read it, the innkeeper or someone else would.’
Erik said, ‘I’m Erik von Darkmoor.’
The man took his hand. ‘Duncan Avery.’
Roo’s eyes widened. Cousin Duncan?’
The eyes of the man who had named himself Avery narrowed as he studied Roo. After a long moment he said, ‘Rupert?’
Suddenly they were laughing, and the man Rupert called cousin gave him a quick hug. ‘I haven’t seen you since you were a tadpole, youngster.’ He stepped back and a wry smile graced his features.
Erik glanced back and forth and couldn’t see even the most remote resemblance. While Roo was short, wiry, and signally unattractive, Duncan Avery was tall, slender, with broad shoulders, and handsome. Moreover, he dressed like a dandy, save for his sword, which was well used and well cared for. He sported a slender mustache, but otherwise was clean-shaven, and his hair hung to his shoulders, where it was cut evenly and curled under.
Pulling out a chair, Duncan signaled the serving girl to bring his plate and mug over, and sat.
Erik said, ‘I didn’t know you had a cousin, Roo.’
Roo’s eyes narrowed. ‘Of course you did.’
Erik waved away his previous comment. ‘I mean, I know you have a number of them in Salador and elsewhere in the east, but you’ve never mentioned this gentleman before.’
Duncan thanked the girl and winked at her, causing her to retire with a giggle as he said, ‘I’m crushed, Rupert. What does your friend mean, you’ve never spoken of me?’
Roo sat back, shaking his head. ‘It’s not like we were close, Duncan. I saw you, what? Three times in my life?’
Duncan laughed. ‘Something like that. Tried my hand at the teamsters trade when I was a boy,’ he said to Erik. ‘Got as far as riding with Roo’s pa from Ravensburg to Malac’s Cross, where I quit. Roo was no more than five then.’ His face turned somber. ‘Only time I got to meet his ma.’
‘When was the last time we saw each other?’ asked Roo.
Duncan rubbed his chin. ‘Can’t say I remember, save there was that lovely girl at the fountain: slender waist, ample hips and bosom, accommodating attitude … who was she?’
‘Gwen,’ supplied Roo. ‘And that must have been four or five years ago.’ Roo pointed a fork at Duncan. ‘You were her first.’ Then he grinned. ‘Many of the local lads owe you some thanks; you imparted a … certain enthusiasm in Gwen that we came to appreciate.’
Erik laughed. ‘I’m not one of them,’ he said.
Roo said, ‘Maybe the only boy in Ravensburg who didn’t.’
‘How are you related?’ Erik asked Duncan.
Duncan said, ‘My father is cousin to Roo’s father, Erik, and neither of those worthy gentlemen has much use for me.’ To Roo he said, ‘How is your pa?’
Roo shrugged. ‘Been a couple of years, really. We’re on our way to Ravensburg now. Where are you headed?’
‘I’m for the east, seeking my fortune as usual. I tried my hand doing mercenary duty down in the Vale of Dreams, but the work’s too dangerous, the women too dangerous’ – both Erik and Roo laughed at that – ‘and the money scarce. So I’m for the eastern courts, where a man’s wits stand him as well as his sword.’
Roo said, ‘I might have some use for that wit.’
‘What’s the plan?’ asked Duncan, suddenly interested.
‘Nothing dodgy. Some honest business, but I think I can use someone who knows his way around polite company.’
Duncan shrugged. ‘Well, I’ll ride with you to Ravensburg and we can talk along the way. Besides, you’ve got my curiosity piqued.’
‘Why?’ asked Erik.
‘The way you two moved … it was a sight. When I last saw Rupert he was a scrawny kid barely able to keep himself upright while he pissed, but now he looked downright lethal when he knocked out that soldier. Where did you learn to handle yourselves that way?’
Roo and Erik exchanged glances. Neither needed to be reminded of the network of spies already established in the Kingdom by the agents of the Emerald Queen. Distant cousin or not, Roo had no illusions about the man’s honesty. ‘Here and there,’ said Roo.
‘That’s some Isalani open-handed fighting, or I’m a cow’s new-born,’ said Duncan.
‘Where’d you see it before?’ asked Erik.
‘As I said, I just returned from down in the Vale. You see a few Isalani there as well as some other Keshian-born who know the tricks.’ He leaned forward, and his voice lowered. ‘I hear you can crack a man’s skull with your hand if you know how to do it.’
Erik said, ‘That’s easy. Just make sure you’ve got a smith’s hammer in the hand when you hit him.’
Duncan stared at Erik a moment, then burst into laughter. ‘Good one, lad,’ he said as he dug into his meal. ‘I think I’m going to like you.’
They continued to chat as they ate, and after, Erik went to check on the horses. When he returned, the three men retired for the night to the common sleeping area upstairs, so they might get an early start in the morning.
The village seemed at once unchanged and smaller. Roo said, ‘Nothing’s different.’ They rode at a walk, having taken the bend at the road that put them within sight of Ravensburg. They had been passing familiar farms for the last hour, both vineyards and fields of oat, wheat, and corn. But in the distance they now at last were in sight of the small buildings at the edge of the town.
Erik remained silent, but Duncan said, ‘Doesn’t look any different to me and it’s been years.’
Riding past familiar landmarks, Roo thought that he was wrong. Everything had changed, or at least he had changed and therefore how he saw things had changed. Reaching the Inn of the Pintail, Erik said, ‘Few things in Ravensburg ever change, but we have,’ echoing Roo’s thoughts of a few moments before.
Duncan said, ‘That’s always true, I guess.’ Erik had taken a liking to the affable man, and Roo was pleased, for he liked his cousin as well, though he barely trusted him; he was an Avery, and Roo knew what that meant. There had been a distant uncle, John, who had made a terrible reputation for himself as a pirate, long before Roo had been born, and more than half those uncles and cousins who had died since Roo’s birth had been hanged or killed during a robbery attempt. Still, there were a few Averys who had turned a hand toward honest labor, and Roo thought that gave him a chance of getting rich without having to resort to murder or robbery.
As they dismounted, a boy ran from the stable and said, ‘Care for your horses, gentlemen?’
Erik said, ‘Who are you?’
‘Gunther,’ said the boy. ‘I’m the smith’s apprentice, sir.’
Erik tossed the reins to the boy. ‘Is your master about?’ asked Erik.
‘He’s taking his midday meal in the kitchen, sir. Should I fetch him for you?’
Erik said, ‘Never mind, I can find the way.’ The boy took the horses and led them away.
Roo said, ‘Your replacement?’
‘So it seems,’ said Erik shaking his head. ‘He can’t be more than twelve or so.’
‘You were younger when you started helping Tyndal around the forge,’ reminded Roo.
Roo followed Erik as he moved to the rear door, the one that led directly into the kitchen. Erik pushed open the door and stepped through.
Freida, Erik’s mother, sat at the kitchen table talking to Nathan the smith. She looked up as Erik came through the doorway. Her eyes widened and her color drained away. She half stood; then her eyes rolled up into her head and she swooned, caught by the smith before she fell to the floor.
‘Damn me,’ said Nathan. ‘It’s you. It really is.’
Erik hurried around the table and took his mother’s hand. ‘Get some water,’ he instructed Roo.
Roo got a pitcher and filled it from the pump at the sink and brought a clean kitchen rag, which he wet and placed upon Erik’s mother’s brow.
Erik looked across his mother’s still form at the man with whom she had been eating and saw the smith regarding him with amazement in his eyes, which were brimming with tears. ‘You’re alive,’ he said. ‘We didn’t know.’
Erik swore. ‘I’m an idiot.’
Roo took off his travel cloak and sat down, motioning to Duncan to do the same. ‘Rosalyn!’ he shouted. ‘We need wine!’
Nathan shook his head. ‘Rosalyn’s not here. I’ll get us a bottle.’ As he stood, he said, ‘There’s a lot to be talked of, it seems.’
A moment later he returned, with Milo the innkeeper a step behind. The innkeeper said, ‘My gods! Erik! Roo! You’re alive!’
Erik and Roo both exchanged a glance, then Roo said, ‘Well, it was a secret, wasn’t it?’
Nathan said, ‘Are you hunted?’
Roo burst out laughing. ‘No, Master Smith. We are free men, by the King’s own hand. And prosperous ones, as well.’ He jingled his purse significantly.
Nathan pulled the cork of the wine bottle he carried and poured a round of drinks while Freida regained consciousness. She blinked and said, ‘Erik?’
‘Here, Mother.’
She threw her arms around his neck and started to cry. ‘We were told you were tried and convicted.’
‘We were,’ said Erik softly. ‘But we gained our pardon and were set free.’
‘Why did you not send word?’ she asked, a slight note of reproach in her voice. She touched his face as if uncertain of his substance.
‘We couldn’t,’ said Erik. ‘We were in the Prince’s service and’ – he glanced around the room – ‘we were not permitted to let anyone know. But that’s all in the past.’
She shook her head slightly in amazement. She touched his cheek, then kissed it. Resting her head on his shoulder she said, ‘My prayers are answered.’
Nathan said, ‘She prayed, lad.’ He wiped away a tear. ‘We all prayed for you.’
Roo saw that Erik’s own emotions were starting to rise, but Erik forced them down, never having been one to show his feelings openly. Roo took a deep breath, suddenly feeling self-conscious over the moisture gathering in his own eyes.
Erik asked, ‘What of you? How are you?’
Freida sat back and took Nathan’s hand. ‘There have been changes.’
Erik glanced from his mother to the smith. ‘You two?’
Nathan smiled, ‘We wed last summer.’ Then his expression darkened. ‘You’ve no objections, I take it?’
Erik let out a whoop and leaned across the table and seized his stepfather in a bear hug, nearly knocking the wine over; only Roo’s quick reflexes saved it. ‘Objections! You’re the best man I know, Nathan, and if I could have named my father, it would have been you.’ Sitting back he looked at his mother with an unashamed tear rolling down his cheek, then he took her in another bear hug and said, ‘I am so happy for you, Mother.’
Freida blushed like a bride. ‘He came to me and was so sweet when you fled. He saw to my hurt every day, Erik.’ She touched Nathan’s cheek with more tenderness than Erik could ever remember her showing anyone, including himself. ‘He made me care again.’
Slapping his hand on the table, Erik said, ‘We celebrate!’ To Milo he said, ‘I want your best bottle and a meal tonight to embarrass the Empress of Kesh!’
‘Done!’ said Milo, his own eyes glistening with emotion. ‘And I’ll only charge you cost.’
Roo laughed. ‘You haven’t changed, Master Innkeeper.’
‘Where’s Rosalyn?’ said Erik.
Milo and Nathan exchanged glances and Nathan said, ‘She’s with her family, Erik.’
Erik glanced around, not understanding. ‘Family? You’re her father –’
Roo reached over and took his friend’s arm. ‘She’s with her husband, Erik.’ He looked at Milo. ‘Is that what Nathan’s saying, Milo?’
Milo nodded. ‘Aye, and I’m a grandfather, too.’
Erik sat back. His emotions were in turmoil. ‘She’s had a baby?’
Milo looked at Erik. ‘That’s a fact.’
Erik said, ‘Who’s the father?’
Milo glanced around the room and said, ‘She married young Rudolph, the baker’s apprentice; you know him?’ Erik nodded. ‘He’s now a journeyman and will set up his own ovens soon. She’s living with his family, over by the square.’
Erik rose. ‘I know the house. I want to see her.’
Freida said, ‘Go slowly, son. She also thinks you’re dead.’
Leaning over to kiss his mother again, he said, ‘I know. I’ll try not to scare her to death. I want her to come tonight.’ Then he added, ‘With Rudolph.’
Roo said, ‘I’ll go with you.’
Freida squeezed his hand. ‘Don’t be long, else I’ll think this all a dream.’
Erik laughed. ‘Hardly. Roo’s cousin Duncan will charm you with tales wondrous and improbable.’
The cousin smiled. Nathan looked at the handsome Duncan and said, ‘He’ll not be charming her too much, I’m thinking.’
Erik laughed. ‘We’ll be back soon.’
Roo and Erik hurried from the kitchen, through the empty common room of the inn, and out the front door. They hastened down the street that led to the town’s square and hardly noticed those few townspeople who stopped to stare in open amazement at the familiar figures of Rupert Avery and Erik von Darkmoor hurrying along. One man dropped a crock of wine as his eyes widened at the sight of the reputedly dead men striding past. One or two others tried to say something, but Roo and Erik were away before they could give voice to the greeting.
Reaching the town square, they turned and made their way to the bakery where Rudolph worked and lived. At the front door Roo saw Erik hesitate. Roo knew Erik’s feelings for Rosalyn were never simple. She was like a sister to him, but at the same time there was something more. Roo and the others around town knew that Rosalyn was in love with Erik, even if he had been too thick to know. At least, he had been aware just before his departure from Ravens-burg that her feelings for him were more than sisterly. He had talked about it with Roo more than once. And Roo knew that Erik still didn’t really understand how he felt about her.
Suddenly embarrassed by his own hesitation, Erik entered the bakery. Rudolph stood behind the counter, and when he looked up he said, ‘Can I help –’ His eyes widened as he said, ‘Erik? Roo?’
Erik offered a friendly smile. ‘Hello, Rudolph.’ He extended his hand as he crossed the small space between door and counter. Roo followed.
Rudolph had never been what either Roo or Erik would count a friend, though in a town as small as Ravens-burg all the children of similar age know one another. ‘I thought you dead,’ he half whispered, as if afraid to be overheard.
‘That seems to have been the general opinion,’ Roo said. ‘But we were freed by the King.’
‘By the King?’ asked Rudolph, clearly impressed, as he took Erik’s hand and gave it a perfunctory shake. Then he shook with Roo.
‘Yes,’ said Erik. ‘And I’m back.’ When Rudolph’s expression darkened, he quickly added, ‘For a few days. I’m the Prince of Krondor’s man now.’ He pointed to the crest on his tunic. ‘I must be back there before the end of the month.’
Rudolph relaxed. ‘Well then, it’s good to see you.’ He looked Erik up and down. ‘I expect you’ve come to see Rosalyn?’
‘She was a sister to me,’ said Erik.
Rudolph nodded. ‘In the back. Follow me.’
Erik and Roo walked to the end of the counter, where Rudolph lifted the hinged top, and stepped through. They followed Rudolph through the large bakery, past now-cooling ovens that would be heated again after nightfall, as the bakers plied their tasks all night long, so there would be hot bread for sale at first light. Large tables, now cleaned, waited for the bakers, and vats that would hold dough after supper were empty. Rows of clean baking pans waited to be filled, and in the corner two apprentice bakers slept in anticipation of the night’s work ahead.
Rudolph moved to another door and they exited the bakery and crossed a small alley, to a room in a residence that Roo knew belonged to Rudolph’s employer. Rudolph said, ‘Wait here,’ and entered.
A few moments later, Rosalyn appeared at the door, a child upon her left hip. She gripped the doorjamb tightly, while Rudolph stood behind her, offering her support. ‘Erik?’ she half whispered. ‘Roo?’
Erik smiled, and Rosalyn stepped forward and put her right arm around his neck, hugging him fiercely. He held her gently, trying to be aware of the squirming baby, and then he realized she was crying.
‘Here, now,’ he said softly pushing her away. ‘None of that. I’m fine. I did the Prince of Krondor a service and was pardoned for my crime.’
‘Why didn’t you send word?’ she whispered harshly.
Roo was surprised by the anger in her voice toward Erik, but Erik glanced at Rudolph, who nodded at the question.
‘We couldn’t,’ said Erik. He pointed to the crest on his tunic and said, ‘I’m the Prince’s man now, sworn to his service, and I was under oath not to speak of my freedom since’ – he didn’t want to bring up the rape and the trial in Krondor – ‘I left. But now I’m here.’
Rosalyn child started to squirm and complain and she turned to calm the child. ‘Shush, Gerd.’
‘Gerd?’ said Erik.
‘It was my father’s name,’ said Rudolph.
Erik nodded as he looked at the little boy. Then his eyes widened and Roo saw his knees go weak. Roo grabbed Erik’s arm as he gripped the doorjamb.
‘What?’ asked Roo, then he looked again at the little boy. Realization hit him. Rudolph was a stocky, short man, with reddish brown hair. There was nothing of him in this child’s face. But from the expression that showed there, and the size of the child, he knew instantly what had occurred while he and Erik had been gone.
Softly Roo asked what Erik seemed unable to say: ‘Stefan’s?’
Rosalyn nodded. Without taking her eyes from her foster brother’s face she said, ‘Gerd’s your nephew, Erik.’
• Chapter Three • Bargains (#ulink_9804200c-ba95-5a30-a180-a86152e5e7ac)
The baby cried.
Roo laughed as Erik quickly handed him back to Rosalyn. He had offered to hold the boy but the squirming youngster had had Erik looking overwhelmed in less than a minute.
The mood in the room was guarded, a mix of happiness and apprehension. While everyone was pleased to see Roo and Erik alive and well, those in the taproom of the Inn of the Pintail knew that word of Erik’s return would quickly reach his half brother. The Prince of Krondor might have pardoned Roo and Erik for their crime against Erik’s half brother Stefan, but the surviving brother, Manfred, might not. And Stefan’s mother certainly would not. There was a long leap between the letter of the law and its practice when vengeful nobles were involved, everyone knew.
Milo and Nathan motioned Roo aside and Nathan said, ‘Are you planning on staying long?’
Roo glanced to where Erik sat studying his nephew, fascinated by the little life before him. ‘Erik mostly wanted to see his mother and you,’ he said to them. ‘I’ve got some business. We’ll be gone in a week or so.’
Nathan whispered, ‘Better sooner than later, Roo.’
Roo nodded. ‘I know. Mathilda von Darkmoor.’
Milo put his finger alongside his nose and nodded once, indicating Roo was correct in his surmise.
Roo said, ‘But Freida threatened Mathilda’s boys’ inheritance. You’re telling everyone that the baby’s Rudolph’s, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Nathan.
‘But it’s as plain as the nose on your face who his sire is, Roo,’ said Milo, looking fondly across the room at his grandson. ‘There are no secrets in this town. By now the Baron surely knows the baby exists.’
Roo shrugged. ‘Maybe, but I overheard Manfred talking to Erik –’
‘When?’ demanded Nathan, his voice an anxious whisper.
‘In the death cell. The night before we were to be hung. He came and told Erik there was no hard feelings; he said Stefan was a swine.’
Nathan shook his head. ‘One thing to say that to a man you count dead the next day, another to a rival to the title of Baron.’
Roo said, ‘I don’t think that’s a problem. Manfred said there were other bastards, not just Erik. Seems the old Baron loved the ladies.’
Milo nodded. ‘That’s truth. I hear there’s a lad over in Wolfsheim who looks a lot like Erik.’
‘Well,’ said Nathan, ‘see if you can’t get Erik away as soon as possible. We’ll do what we can to protect little Gerd, but if Erik’s presence calls undue attention to the baby …’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Roo. ‘I have business, and the sooner I get it done, the sooner we’ll leave.’
‘Anything we can do to help?’ asked the smith.
A calculating look entered Roo’s eyes. ‘Well, now that you mention it, I could use a reliable wagon – but one that’s not too dear, you understand.’
Milo’s eyes rolled heavenward, and Nathan laughed at the obvious ploy. ‘Gaston’s still the only place you’re likely to find a wagon,’ said the smith.
Erik glanced over to where his friend stood talking to the smith and the innkeeper, the three of them smiling while Nathan laughed at something Roo said, and shook his head with a smile of affection. Roo saw the gesture and returned it, as if to say, ‘Yes, it’s good to be home.’
Roo was out at first light, only slightly hung-over, making his way to the outskirts of town.
‘Gaston!’ he cried as he came into sight of his destination. The building was little more than a run-down barn, made over to a sort of storage building, with a small shed attached to the front. A sign hung over it, crudely painted hammers, crossed as if they were a noble’s swords.
As Roo reached the door to the shop, a head stuck out and a narrow-faced man of indeterminate years regarded him. ‘Avery?’ he exclaimed, half-pleased, half-irritated by his manner. ‘Thought you hung,’ he observed.
Roo stuck out his hand, ‘Wasn’t,’ he replied.
‘Kind of obvious,’ returned the man named Gaston. He spoke with a slight accent, one common to those living in the smaller backwater towns in the province of Bas-Tyra, but he had lived in Darkmoor since before Roo had been born. He shook Roo’s hand and said, ‘What you need?’
Roo said, ‘Got a wagon?’
‘One out back for sale. She not much to look at; need a little work, but she sound.’
They walked around the building, a combination carpentry shed, tannery, and tinker’s shop. Gaston was master of no trade, but adept at fixing all manner of things, and the only source of repair for those without sufficient funds to pay the local smiths and carpenters. If a poor farmer had a scythe that needed to last one more harvest, he brought it to Gaston, not the forge where Erik used to apprentice to old Tyndal and then Nathan. Roo had heard Erik comment that Gaston might not be a fine smith, but he was solid on the basics. And Roo’s father had always taken his wagons to Gaston for repair.
They moved to a low fence, composed mostly from scraps of wood Gaston had found here and there, and Gaston opened the rickety gate. It swung open on stiff, loud hinges, and Roo entered the yard where Gaston stowed most of his property. Roo halted a moment and shook his head. He had been in the yard countless times; nevertheless he was amazed whenever he saw the colossal collection of refuse Gaston lay claim to: scraps of metal, a shed full of cloth, and a huge covered stack of wood, all organized in a fashion known only to Gaston, but one which Roo knew was flawless. If Gaston had what you needed, he knew where it lay, and could put his hands on it in moments.
‘Saw your papa.’
‘Where’s he now?’ asked Roo, not entirely interested.
‘Sleepin’ off a drunk. He came back from a run down to Salador. Six or seven wagons, I don’t remember, but they got there in good order and were paid a bonus, then he picked up a cargo and came back full, so he blew off a bit last night.’
Gaston hiked his thumb over his shoulder to a bundle of rags under one of two wagons nestled against the lee side of the barn. Roo went over and found the bundle was snoring. He recognized one of the two wagons as his father’s. It was as familiar to Roo as his own pallet had been at home. And truth to tell, he had slept in it about as often. When his father got into one of his drunken rages, Roo had often hidden under the canvas tie-down and slept the night there, rather than risk a pointless beating.
‘Too drunk to walk three streets home?’ said Roo, kneeling and pulling back the topmost rag. The stench that struck him as he did made him wish he hadn’t. Not only hadn’t his father bathed in some time, his breath hit Roo full on as he snored in obvious stupor.
‘Gak!’ Roo moved back a couple of steps.
Gaston scratched his chin and said, ‘We had a few, truth to tell. Tom was buying, so I weren’t going to leave him lying there in the street. I bring him over here; I wasn’t going to take him all the way home, by damn.’
Roo shook his head. ‘Not likely.’ He regarded the snoring face of his father. The old man seemed smaller somehow. Roo wondered at that, but knew that he would seem large enough if he was awakened before he bestirred himself.
Then Roo laughed. He wasn’t a boy any longer and his father hadn’t towered over him in years. Roo wondered, if his father tried to strike him again, would he cower as a child would before an enraged parent, or would he act without thought and break his father’s jaw?
Not willing to put that to the test, he said, ‘We’ll let him sleep. He probably didn’t miss me when I was gone, so I doubt he’ll be glad to see me now.’
Gaston said, ‘You shouldn’t go saying that, Roo. He was right enough upset you were going to be hung. Said it more than once. Thought thirty years’ hard labor was fair, he said.’
Roo shook his head and changed the subject. ‘The wagon?’
‘She be over there,’ said Gaston, pointing to the one that sat next to Roo’s father’s. It was a serviceable wagon, though in need of some repair and a lot of paint.
Roo quickly inspected it, ensuring the axles and wheels were sound. He said, ‘We need to replace some of the fittings on the tongue, but it’ll do. How much?’
Gaston and Roo began haggling and after a minute a deal was struck. It was slightly more than Roo wished to pay, but a fair price, and the wagon was exactly what he was looking for. He paid the money and said, ‘Horses?’
‘Martin still be cheapest for sound animals,’ answered Gaston. ‘Your papa got an extra team these days. Won them in a dice game last month.’
A calculating look crossed Roo’s face and he said, ‘Thanks. That’s good to know.’ Glancing at the snoring figure of his father, he said, ‘If he wakes before I return, keep him here. I need to talk to him before I leave town.’
Roo started for the gate and Gaston said, ‘Where are you off to now?’
‘Growers’ and Vintners’ Hall. I have to buy some wine.’
He left the yard and made his way down the street as the town began to stir into the day’s activities. Workers were already at their shops, and now those women heading out to purchase goods and food for their families were also about. Roo nodded in greeting at a few familiar faces, but mostly he was lost in thought about the next step in his plan for wealth.
As he reached the town square, opposite the Growers’ and Vintners’ Hall, a clatter of hooves upon cobbles heralded the approach of riders, and from the sound, Roo knew they were coming fast. A moment later the squad appeared around the corner of the very hall for which Roo was bound, five riders at a canter. Pedestrians scampered out of the way as the five men in the colors of the Baron of Darkmoor hurried by. Roo marked the leader, the same corporal they had encountered in Wilhelmsburg, and he knew instantly where they would eventually stop: Milo’s inn. Roo hesitated and decided against heading directly there. He had business to conduct and, besides, he was pretty sure this would be a matter between Erik and his half brother Manfred. If the Baron needed to speak with Roo Avery, he could come looking for him after he finally found Erik. Roo entered the hall.
Erik stood admiring the forge. Nathan and his apprentice Gunther were showing off the changes they had made since Erik had left. They were minor, but Erik made a point of admiring the boy’s work. It was clear he doted on Nathan and had developed much the same attitude that Erik had toward the smith, that of a boy for a foster-father. Nathan’s own children had been killed in an almost forgotten war and he took special pains to care for his apprentices.
‘You look fit,’ said Nathan. ‘You like the army?’
Erik said, ‘There’s much about it I don’t like, but … yes, I think I like the order, the sense of knowing what is expected of you.’
Nathan motioned with his head for Gunther to find some task to attend to, leaving them alone. ‘And the killing?’
Erik shrugged. ‘Not much. There are times when it’s like hacking wood for the fire. Something you must do. Other times I’m too scared to think. But mostly it’s … I don’t know … ugly.’
Nathan nodded. ‘I’ve worked with a lot of soldiers in my day, Erik. Be cautious of those who enjoy the butchery. They serve when the fighting’s hard, but they’re like guard dogs; better to keep them on a short leash most of the time.’
Erik looked at Nathan and their eyes locked. Then Erik smiled. ‘I promise I’ll never get to liking it.’
‘Then you’ll do,’ said Nathan, returning Erik’s grin. ‘Though you’d have been a fine smith, no doubt.’
‘Smithing is something I still enjoy. Maybe you’ll let me turn a hand to some –’
Roo approached. ‘Nathan! Erik!’
Erik said, ‘How is this mysterious business deal of yours going?’
‘Just about finished,’ answered Roo with a grin. ‘A couple of things more and I’ll be ready to go.’ He made a face. ‘Besides, there are soldiers wandering around town looking for you.’
The sound of riders entering the inn’s courtyard cut short Erik’s reply. They left the forge and rounded the barn, entering the courtyard just as the Baron’s five guardsmen were getting ready to dismount.
Erik recognized the leader, the corporal they had encountered two days before. ‘You,’ he said, pointing to Roo and Erik. ‘The Baron wants a word with you two.’
Roo rolled his eyes heavenward, patting his tunic pocket to ensure he still carried his royal pardon. ‘Can’t this wait?’
‘No! But I’ll give you a choice: ride your own horse or I’ll be happy to drag you behind him.’
Roo said, ‘I’ll get my horse.’
A few minutes later, Roo and Erik were mounted and rode past the squad. The corporal said, ‘Wait a minute! Where do you think you’re going?’
They slowed to let the corporal overtake them, then Erik said, ‘You came cantering in, yet your horses are barely winded and none of them are sweating. So you rode less than a mile to fetch us. Manfred’s camped in the old sheep meadow at the edge of town.’
The corporal looked astonished, but before he could speak, Erik put heels to his horse’s barrel and was off at a canter, Roo a second behind. The squad followed suit, and soon the seven of them were hurrying through the town.
A few minutes later they passed through the buildings at the east edge of town, and as Erik had predicted, they found Manfred’s field tent erected in the old sheep meadow where the King’s Highway intersected the road south.
Erik dismounted and tossed the reins to a guardian standing near the entrance of the tent. As the five riders came up alongside, Erik regarded the corporal. ‘What’s your name?’ asked Erik.
‘Alfred,’ said the corporal. ‘Why?’
Erik smiled. ‘I just wanted to know. Watch the horse.’ Roo and Erik moved to the tent and one of the soldiers there drew aside the flap.
Sitting inside was Erik’s half brother Manfred. ‘I must confess, I never thought I’d see you two again,’ said the Baron, indicating they should sit, ‘considering the circumstances of our last meeting.’
‘At the time, I thought the same,’ answered Erik.
Roo studied the half brothers. Manfred looked nothing like Erik. Erik was the mocking likeness of their father, the very fact of which had driven Manfred’s mother to demand Erik’s death over the murder of Stefan, her elder son. Manfred was his mother’s son. He was dark, intense, and handsome in a nervous way. He wore a neatly trimmed beard, a new affectation, and Roo thought it a little silly, though he kept that opinion to himself.
‘My lord the Duke of Salador, who as you may know is the King’s cousin, has ordered me to send a squad of men to Krondor, for special duty. No details of why or for how long are forthcoming. Do you know something about this?’
Erik nodded. ‘Something.’
‘Will you tell me?’
‘I cannot.’
‘Cannot or will not?’
‘Both,’ said Erik. ‘I am the Prince’s man and obey his injunctions against speaking before I’m bidden.’
‘Well, if you have no objections, I’d like them to return to Krondor with you and your friend.’
Erik sat back. ‘An escort?’
Manfred smiled, and in that one expression there was a hint of the man who sired them both. ‘In a manner of speaking. As you are the Prince’s man in this, I’ll place them under your command. Being the dutiful soldier you are, I have no doubt you’ll hurry to bring them safely to our most noble Prince as quickly as possible.’
Erik leaned forward. ‘If I could tell you, Manfred, I would. You will never know how much it meant to me for you to come see me in jail as you did; it was very kind of you. It made a difference. But when you finally do know why the Prince is commanding this levy, you’ll understand why I may not speak it now, and that it is of the utmost importance.’
Manfred sighed. ‘Well, very good. I trust you’ll not be lingering in Ravensburg, either of you?’
Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m bound to be back at Krondor within the month, but Roo is a free man and may choose to stay.’
Manfred smiled. ‘He may choose what he wishes, but if your friend is wise, he’ll quickly leave.’ He looked at Roo. ‘My mother has not forgiven either of you, and while I will not seek to do either of you injury, I cannot protect you from her agents. If you wish to live to an old age, you better do it elsewhere.’ He leaned over toward Erik, lowering his voice, and lost his smile. ‘You gain a significant protection by wearing that new tunic, Erik. Even here in sleepy Dark-moor we know of the Eagle of Krondor; you’re the Prince’s Man’s man. But your friend Rupert has no patronage and few friends. It’s better for everyone if you take him with you.’
‘I’m getting a cargo together and will be leaving in a couple of days with my cousin,’ said Roo.
Manfred rose. ‘See that you do. It would be well for you both not to be in town when my mother learns you are alive and back within her reach.’ Glancing at the two men, he said, ‘Even in Krondor, watch your backs.’
‘What about the child?’ asked Erik.
Manfred said, ‘Mother still doesn’t know of his existence, and I would like to see it kept that way for as long as possible.’ He looked troubled. ‘It’s a bit of a different story here than it was with you, Erik. The boy is Stefan’s baby, not her philandering husband’s; it’s her own grandson. But he’s a bastard, and as I have yet to wed …’
‘Understood.’
‘Your presence in Ravensburg might push her to side against the child: have you considered that?’
Erik shrugged. ‘Not in that fashion. Truth to tell, Manfred, I’ve not been much of a thinker the last two years. Too much to do. Not enough time to ponder.’
Manfred shook his head and said, ‘You’ve changed. You were the town lad when we met, and now … you’re a harder man, Erik.’
Erik studied his brother’s face. ‘I think we both are.’
Manfred rose and said, ‘I’m “out hunting,” so I’d better have something to show Mother when I return this evening to the castle. Be about your business and expect the levy to appear tomorrow at that inn you called home.’
Erik followed the Baron outside. ‘One of these days I hope we can meet under more favorable circumstances.’
Manfred laughed and again the resemblance showed itself. ‘I doubt it. Our fortunes and fates are very different, brother. As long as you live and I have no children, Mother sees you as a threat to her line. It’s that simple.’
Dryly Roo said, ‘Then get married and have some.’
Manfred said, ‘Would that it were that simple. I serve at the King’s pleasure and my Duke of Salador’s whim. They have yet to indicate to me which noble daughter would prove suitable wife material.’ He sighed slightly, but Erik noticed. ‘And, truth to tell, I haven’t pressed them to decide. I find the company of women … difficult.’
‘Is there someone?’ said Erik, suddenly sensing that his half brother, mostly a stranger to him, barely held some sorrow in check.
Manfred’s manner turned neutral. ‘Nothing of which I choose to speak.’
Erik had nothing more to say and his brother didn’t offer his hand. Erik saluted and started back to where his horse waited. Roo headed toward the tent flap. With a quick move, Erik turned back toward his brother. ‘That corporal, Alfred.’
‘What of him?’
‘Send him with the levy.’
Manfred shook his head and smiled slightly. ‘You have an account with him?’
‘Of sorts,’ said Erik.
Manfred shrugged. ‘There’s not much to recommend the man. He’s a brawler. He’ll never make sergeant because of it.’
‘You have a need for brawlers,’ said Erik. ‘Once they’re broken of brawling, they’re the kind of men we need.’
‘You can have him.’ Turning back into the tent, Manfred vanished.
Roo and Erik returned to their horses and mounted. Erik looked down at Alfred and said, ‘Fare you well, Corporal.’
‘We’ll meet again, bastard,’ said Alfred with a baleful stare.
‘Oh, count on it.’ Erik returned the dark look.
Roo added, with an evil smile, ‘Sooner than you think.’
With heels to their mounts, Roo and Erik left the soldiers behind and returned to Ravensburg.
‘And I’m telling you that if you put any more on that wagon, you’re going to break an axle!’ shouted Tom Avery.
Roo stood nose to nose with his father, who was only slightly taller than his son, and after a moment said, ‘You’re right.’
Tom blinked, then nodded once, curtly, saying, ‘Of course I’m right.’
The two wagons sat in the yard behind Gaston’s shop, loaded with small barrels of wine. Duncan inspected each tie-down carefully, for the third or fourth time, and looked dubious about the prospect of so many barrels of wine remaining secure.
Roo had spent the day conducting business, spending every coin he had as well as what Erik had given him in purchasing a modest-quality wine that, he hoped, would realize him a significant profit once it reached Krondor.
While not an expert on wine, Roo was a child of Ravens-burg and knew more about it than most merchants in Krondor. He knew that the high cost of wine in the Prince’s city was due to the cost of shipping it bottled. Only the most common bulk wine came otherwise, shipped in large barrels. But the smaller barrels of modest-quality wine, used in the taprooms in the area, were never shipped much farther away than a neighboring village, because the wine commanded little profit in an area where high-quality wine was taken for granted. While still not as fine as the great wines served to the nobility, this wine would stand out in Krondor’s common inns. Roo had shrewdly purchased wines he knew to be a cut or two above the quality of what he had drunk in the Prince’s city. Roo calculated that if he could get the inns and taverns frequented by the businessmen of the Merchants’ Quarter to buy his wine, he could realize as much as a threefold profit on this venture, including the cost of wagons and horses.
Duncan said, ‘You sure you know how to drive this thing?’
Tom wheeled to face his nephew and said, ‘Roo’s a first-rate teamster, as you’d have been had you not run off after that girl –’
Duncan smiled in remembrance. ‘Alice,’ he supplied. ‘That didn’t last long. Besides’ – he put his hand upon the pommel of his sword – ‘this is how I earned my living for the last fifteen years.’
‘Well, we’ll need it,’ said Tom, rubbing his chin. It was the spot Roo had hit him when the old man had come awake and started to bully his son. Three times he had tried to lay hands on the boy and three times had found himself in the dust, looking up at his son. The last time Roo had punctuated his lack of patience for this conflict with a stiff right jab to the old man’s face. After that, Tom Avery looked on his son with a newfound respect. Turning to Roo, he said, ‘You sure you know your way along this road you told me of?’
Roo nodded. It was a backcountry road, little more than a trail in places, where he and Erik had encountered Helmut Grindle, a trader from Krondor. Roo had learned there was a way from Ravensburg to Krondor that was passable without having to pay toll on the King’s Highway. Erik had papers from the Prince, which had saved them any charges on the way to Ravensburg, but Erik and his company of levies from Darkmoor had left that morning for Krondor, and they would be in the Prince’s city a week before the slow-moving wagons would arrive.
Roo knew that the wagons were loaded to capacity, and that any trouble would leave half his cargo stuck in the backwoods between Darkmoor and the coast. But if his plan worked, he’d have enough capital for something more audacious, and he was sure he could make enough on this one journey to get his career fairly launched.
‘Well,’ said Roo, ‘no reason to linger. The sooner started, the sooner finished.’ He said nothing of Manfred’s warning about his mother’s vengeance. He didn’t trust Duncan enough to count on his staying close by should he learn that a noble might be sending agents after Roo. His father, he knew, could be trusted to drive his wagon: say what you might about Tom Avery, he was steadfast in his work when sober. But in a fight he would be useless, no matter what bluster and boasting he indulged himself in when drunk. ‘Ride with me,’ Roo said to Duncan. ‘I’ll reacquaint you with driving a team.’
Duncan rolled his eyes heavenward but climbed aboard. He had sold his horse for a small price, which earned him a share in Roo’s venture, and now was a minority owner of one wagon, four horses, and a great deal of wine. Roo’s father had insisted only on his usual fees, not a coin more or less, which silently pleased Roo. He enjoyed his father’s treating him as he would any other trader.
Gaston waved farewell as they rolled through the gate out of his yard and turned down the cobbles of Ravensburg. The wagons creaked and groaned under the weight and the horses snorted at being asked to work, but they were under way, and Roo felt a keen sense of anticipation.
‘Try not to get yourself killed,’ called out Gaston as the gate shut.
Roo ducked behind the wagon as another arrow sped through the space he had just occupied; the first had struck inches from his head. He yelled a warning to his father and Duncan as he scrambled under the wagon, drawing his sword and trying to ascertain from where the arrow had come. A third shaft emerged from the evening gloom and he marked where he judged it had originated. He signaled to Duncan that he was going to back between the wagons and move in a circle around the ambushers. Duncan signaled he understood and motioned around the campsite, indicating he should be wary of other attackers.
They had been on the road for almost a week, having left the King’s Highway just west of Ravensburg and making their way across open country to the small westward trail road Roo and Erik had used when fleeing the area two years earlier.
The travel had been uneventful and the wagons were proving sturdy and the horses sound, which had contributed to Roo’s increasing optimism as the days passed. If his father had judged him daft for picking a large, unwieldy cargo, he kept his opinion to himself. He was an old teamster and had driven stranger cargo than dozens of small wine casks before.
They camped each night at sundown, letting the horses graze along a picket, supplementing the grass with a small amount of grain, mixed with honey and nuts, which kept them fit and energetic. Each day Roo used what knowledge of horses he possessed to check their soundness, and more than once he had silently wished for Erik’s presence, as he would find anything that Roo might miss. But Roo had been astonished to discover that his father knew as much as Erik, at least on the subject of draft animals, and each day the old man inspected right alongside his son, and each day he judged the animals fit to continue the journey.
Now Roo crab-crawled on elbows and knees, turning as he moved between the wagons, and when he had the wagons between himself and the source of the arrow fire, he stood and ran into the woods. Only two years of combat and intense training saved his life, for another bandit had moved opposite the first and tried to impale Roo on his sword point. The only thing he accomplished was to die silently; Roo hardly broke stride as he ran him through, dodging sideways into the dark woods in case there was another bandit close by.
Silence greeted him as he paused to consider his next move. He slowed his breathing and looked around. The sun had set less than an hour before and the sky to the west might still hold some glow, but under the thick trees it could have been midnight. Roo listened. A moment later he heard another arrow flight, and he moved.
Circling as quietly as he could through the darkness, he ran swiftly to the place where he thought the bowman might be hiding. At this point he was convinced he was being besieged by a pair of poor bandits, trying to pick off the two guards so they could plunder whatever cargo ventured along the small road far from the King’s justice.
Roo waited. After a few more moments of silence, he heard someone stirring in the brush ahead of him and he acted. As quick as a cat on a mouse, he was through the brush and on top of the other bandit. The struggle was quickly over. The man attempted to drop his bow and pull a knife when he sensed Roo’s approach from behind.
The man died before the knife was out of his belt.
‘It’s over,’ said Roo.
A moment later, Duncan and Tom appeared, wraithlike in the gloom. ‘Just two of them?’ asked Duncan.
‘If there’s another, he’s halfway to Krondor,’ said Tom. He had obviously fallen hard, as he was dirty from boot to the top of his head on his left side, and he had a bruise on his left cheek. He held his right arm across his chest, holding tight to his left biceps, and flexed the fingers of his left hand.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Roo.
‘Fell damn hard on this arm, I guess,’ answered his father. ‘It’s all tingly and numb.’ He seemed short of breath as he spoke. Blowing out a long note, he added, ‘Some time of it, that was. Not ashamed to admit I was scared for a bit.’
Duncan knelt and rolled over the bandit. ‘This one looks like a ragpicker,’ he said.
‘Few honest traders and only a few more dishonest ones brave this route,’ said Tom. ‘Never been a rich outlaw I heard of, and certainly not around here.’ He shook his hand as if trying to wake up a sleeping limb.
Duncan came away with a purse. ‘He might not have been rich, but he wasn’t coinless, either.’ He opened the purse and found a few copper coins and a single stone. Walking back into the light of the campfire, he knelt to inspect the gem. ‘Nothing fancy, but it’ll fetch a coin or two.’
Roo said, ‘Better see if the other is dead.’
He found the first man he had encountered lying facedown in the mud, and when he rolled him over, discovered a boy’s face on the corpse. Shaking his head in disgust, Roo quickly found the boy without even the rude leather pouch the other bandit had possessed.
He returned to the wagons as Duncan put down the bow he had taken from the first bandit. ‘Pretty poor,’ he said, tossing it aside. ‘Ran out of arrows.’ Roo sat down with an audible sigh.
‘What do you think they’d be doing with all this wine?’ asked Duncan.
‘Probably drink a bit,’ said Tom. ‘But it was the horses and whatever coin we carry, and the swords you have and anything else they could sell.’
Duncan said, ‘We bury them?’
Roo shook his head. ‘They’d not have done the same for us. Besides, we’ve no shovel. And I’m not about to dig their graves with my hands.’ He sighed. ‘If they’d been proper bandits, we’d have been feeding the crows tomorrow instead of them. Better keep alert.’
Duncan said, ‘Well then, I’m turning in.’
Tom and Roo sat before the fire. Because of his age, Roo and Duncan allowed Tom the first watch. The man with the second had it roughest, having to awake for a few hours in the dark, then turn in again. Roo also knew that dawn was the most dangerous time for attack, as guards were the sleepiest and least alert and anyone contemplating a serious assault would wait for just before sunrise. Chances were near-certain if Tom had morning watch, should trouble come he’d be sound asleep when he died.
Tom said, ‘Had a stone like that one Duncan’s got, once.’
Roo said nothing. His father rarely talked to him, a habit that had developed in childhood. Rupert had traveled with his father many times as a boy, learning the teamster’s trade, but on the longest of those journeys, from Ravens-burg to Salador and back, he’d rarely had more than ten words for the boy. When at home, Tom drank to excess, and when working, remained sober but stoic.
‘I got it for your mother,’ said Tom quietly.
Roo was riveted. If Tom was a quiet man when sober, he was always silent about Roo’s mother, sober or drunk. Roo knew what he did about his mother from others in the village, for she had died in childbirth.
‘She was a tiny thing,’ said Tom. Roo knew his diminutive status was a legacy from his mother. Erik’s mother had mentioned that more than once. ‘But strong,’ said Tom.
Roo found that surprising. ‘She had a tough grit to her,’ continued Tom, his eyes shining in the firelight. ‘You look like her, you know.’ He held his right arm across his chest, clutching his left arm, which he massaged absently. He peered into the fire as if seeking something in the dancing flame.
Roo nodded, afraid to speak. Since he had struck his father, knocking him to the ground, the old man had treated him with a deference Roo had never experienced before. Tom sighed. ‘She wanted you, boy. The healing priest told her it would be chancy, with her being so tiny.’ He wiped his right hand over his face, then looked at his own hands, large, oft scarred, and calloused. ‘I was afraid to touch her, you know, with her being so small and me having no gentleness in me. I was afraid I’d break her. But she was tougher than she looked.’
Roo swallowed, suddenly finding it hard to speak. He finally whispered, ‘You never speak of her.’
Tom nodded. ‘I had so little joy in this life, boy. And she was every bit of it. I met her at a festival, and she looked like this shy bird of a thing, standing on the edge of the crowd at the feast of Midsummer. I had just come up from Salador, driving a wagon for my uncle, Duncan’s grandfather. I was half-drunk and full of myself, and then she was right there before me, bold as bright brass, and she says, “Dance with me."’ He sighed. ‘And I did.’
He was silent awhile. He hugged himself, and his breath seemed labored, and he had to swallow hard to speak. ‘She had that same look you do, not fetching with her thin face and uneven teeth, until she smiled – then she lit up and was beautiful. I got her that stone I was speaking of for our wedding. Had it set in a ring for her.’
‘Like a noble,’ said Roo, forcing his voice to a lighter tone.
‘Like the Queen herself,’ Tom answered with a shallow laugh. He swallowed hard. ‘She said I was mad and should sell it for a new wagon, but I insisted she keep it.’
‘You never told me,’ said Roo softly.
Tom shrugged and was silent. He took a deep breath, then said, ‘You’re a man now. Showed me that when I woke to find you standing over me at Gaston’s. Never thought you’d amount to much, but you’re a shrewd one, and if you can beat the King’s own hangman, and learn to handle yourself so I can’t bully you, why, I figure you’ll turn out all right down the road.’ Tom smiled slightly and said, ‘You’re like her that way; you’re tougher than you look.’
Roo sat in silence a minute, not knowing what to say, then after a bit he said, ‘Why don’t you turn in, Father. I have some thinking to do.’
Tom nodded. ‘I think I will. Got a pain in my neck.’ He moved his left shoulder as if to loosen tight muscles. ‘Must have really twisted it hitting the ground when those lads started shooting arrows at us. Hurts from my wrist to my jaw.’ He wiped perspiration from his brow. ‘Broke a bit of sweat, too.’ He sucked in a large breath and blew it out, as if just standing had been exertion. ‘Getting too old for this. When you get rich, you remember your old father, hear me, Roo?’
Roo started to smile and say something when his father’s eyes rolled up into his head and he fell forward, facedown into the fire. Roo yelled, ‘Duncan!’ and with a single move yanked his father out of the flames.
Duncan was over in an instant and saw the waxy pallor of Tom’s face, the white eyes, and smoldering burns on his cheek and neck. He knelt next to Roo, then said, ‘He’s dead.’
Roo remained motionless as he silently regarded the man who had been his father, and who had died still a stranger to him.
• Chapter Four • Setback (#ulink_d202d132-d02b-5512-91a8-45c1e0994394)
Roo signaled.
Duncan reined in the second wagon, coming to a halt behind the first. Roo turned, stood, and shouted, ‘Krondor!’
They had been traveling this way since burying Tom, in a grave Roo had dug with his bare hands, covering him with stones to keep scavengers away. Duncan had become a fair driver. He had remembered a few things taught to him by Tom when he was a boy, and Roo had increased his skill until he no longer had to spend every minute worrying about the second wagon and its cargo.
Roo was still troubled by his father’s death. He couldn’t escape the feeling that he had glimpsed something in his father when he had been speaking about Roo’s mother. Roo knew there was a great deal about his own history he didn’t understand. His father had always been an aloof man when sober and abusive when drunk, and in part Roo now understood why: each time Tom looked at his son he saw a reminder of the wife he had loved beyond measure, taken from him at Roo’s birth.
But there had been more, and Roo now had dozens of questions, none of which his father would ever answer. He vowed to return to Ravensburg and try to find those few people in the town Tom might have called friend, to ask them those questions. Perhaps he might travel to Salador to visit with Duncan’s branch of the family. But he wanted answers. Suddenly Roo had been made aware that he really didn’t know who he was. Pushing aside that thought, he insisted to himself it wasn’t as important who one is as who one becomes, and he was determined to become a rich, respected man.
Duncan tied off the reins and jumped down from his wagon, walking to where Roo stood. Roo had come to like his cousin, though there was still the rogue in his manner, and Duncan didn’t bring out any strong sense of trust, the way Roo trusted Erik or the other men he had served with under Calis. But he liked the man and thought he might be useful, for he had enough experience with nobility to tutor Rob in manners and fashion.
Duncan climbed up on the first wagon and looked at the distant city. ‘We’re going in tonight?’ he asked.
Roo glanced at the setting sun and said, ‘I don’t think so. I’d have to find a stable yard to house this wine until we could move out in the morning. We’re still more than an hour from the gate now. Let’s make a camp and we’ll head in at first light, try to sell some of this before the inns get too busy.’
They made camp and ate a cold meal before a small fire, while the horses, tied in a long picket, grazed along the roadside. Roo had given them the last of the grain and they were making satisfied noises. ‘What are you going to do with the wagons?’ asked Duncan.
‘Sell them, I think.’ Roo wasn’t sure if he wanted to depend on other shippers, but he didn’t think his time was best spent actually driving the wagons back and forth between Ravensburg and Krondor. ‘Or maybe hire a driver and send you back for another load after we sell off this lot.’
Duncan shrugged. ‘Not much by way of excitement, unless you count those two hapless boy bandits.’
Roo said, ‘One of those “boy bandits” almost put an arrow through my head’ – he tapped the side of his skull – ‘if you remember.’
‘There is that.’ Duncan sighed. ‘I mean by way of women and drink.’
‘We’ll have some of that tomorrow night.’ Roo glanced around. ‘Turn in – I’ll take the first watch.’
Duncan yawned. ‘I won’t argue.’
Roo sat by the fire as his cousin grabbed a blanket and crawled under one of the wagons to protect himself from the dew that would form during the night. This close to the ocean it wasn’t a possibility, it was a certainty, and waking up wet wasn’t either man’s idea of a pleasant way to start the day.
Roo considered what he would do first in the morning, and made up several speeches, rehearsing each and discarding this phrase or that as he tried to determine which sales pitch would work best. He had never been a focused thinker in his youth, but so much was riding on his doing well that he became lost in his thinking, and didn’t realize how much time had passed until he noticed the fire burning down. He considered waking Duncan, but decided instead to reconsider some of his sales pitch, and just stuck some more wood in the fire.
He was still practicing his pitch when the lightening sky finally took his attention from the now merely glowing embers of the fire and he shook himself out of his half-daze, half-dreaming, and he realized that he had not truly slept all night. But he was too filled with excitement and too ready to rush forward into his new life and he figured Duncan wouldn’t object to the extra rest. He rose, and found his knees stiff from sitting in the damp, cool night air without moving for hours. His hair was damp, and dew shone upon his cloak as he shook it out.
‘Duncan!’ he yelled, rousing his cousin. ‘We’ve got wine to sell!’
The wagons clattered over the cobbles of Krondor’s streets. Roo indicated Duncan should pull up behind him, over to one side, allowing some room for traffic to pass on the narrow side street. He had picked out his first stop, a modest inn named the Happy Jumper near the edge of the Merchants’ Quarter. The sign was of a pair of children turning a rope for a third who was suspended in midair over it.
Roo pushed open the door and found a quiet common room, with a large man behind the bar cleaning glasses. ‘Sir?’ the barman asked.
‘Are you the proprietor?’ asked Roo.
‘Alistair Rivers at your disposal. How may I be of service?’ He was a portly man, but under the fat Roo detected strength – most innkeepers had to have some means of enforcing order. His manner was polite, but distant, until he knew the nature of Roo’s business.
‘Rupert Avery,’ said Roo, sticking out his hand. ‘Wine merchant in from Ravensburg.’
The man shook his hand in a perfunctory manner and said, ‘You need rooms?’
‘No, I have wine to sell.’
The man’s expression showed a decided lack of enthusiasm. ‘I have all the wine I need, thank you.’
Roo said, ‘But of what quality and character?’
The man looked down his nose at Roo and said, ‘Make your pitch.’
‘I was born in Ravensburg, sir,’ began Roo. And then he launched into a brief comparison of the bounties of that small town’s wine craft and what was commonly drunk in Krondor’s more modest establishments.
At the end of his pitch he said, ‘The service to Krondor has either been bulk wine for the common man or impossibly priced wine for the nobles, but nothing for the merchant catering to a quality clientele, until now. I can provide wine of superior quality at bulk prices, because I don’t transport the bottles!’
The man was silent a minute. ‘You have a sample?’ he asked at last.
‘Outside,’ said Roo and he hurried out to fetch down a sample cask he had filled before leaving Ravensburg. Returning inside he found a pair of glasses on the bar. He pulled the cork, and as he filled the two glasses with a taste, he said, ‘It’s a bit shocked, having rolled in this very morning off the road, but give it a week or two to rest before you serve it, and you’ll have more business than any other inn in the area.’
The man looked unconvinced, but he tasted. He rolled the wine around his palate, then spit it into a bucket, while Roo did the same. Alistair was quiet again, then said, ‘It’s not bad. A little jumbled, as you said from the road, but there’s some structure there and abundant fruit. Most of my customers won’t know it from the usual plonk, but I do have a few businessmen who frequent my establishment who might find this diverting. I might be interested in a half-dozen barrels. What is your price?’
Roo paused, and quoted a price he knew to be three times what he would accept, and only 15 percent below what the finest noble wines from Ravensburg would fetch. Alistair blinked, then said, ‘Why not burn my inn to the ground and have done with it? You’ll ruin me far quicker.’ He offered a price that was a few coppers less per barrel than what Roo had paid in Ravensburg. Then they began haggling in earnest.
They were waiting for Roo when he came out of the third inn an hour after midday. His first two negotiations had proven profitable, earning him more than he had anticipated. He had gotten about 10 percent higher a price from Alistair Rivers than he had hoped for, which had made him bargain harder at the Inn of Many Stars. His final price had been within coppers of what he had sold wine to Alistair for, so he knew what he was likely to get at the Dog and Fox Tavern. He had concluded his negotiations in quick order, and as he came out of the Dog and Fox he said, ‘Duncan! We need to unload five barrels!’
Then he halted. Duncan moved his head slightly to indicate the man sitting close to him on the wagon, who had a dagger point in Duncan’s ribs, though you had to look to notice it. To passersby it appeared he was merely having a quiet conversation with the driver of the wagon.
Another man stepped up and said, ‘You the owner of these wagons?’
Roo nodded once as he studied the man. He was rangy to the point of gauntness, but there was quickness and danger in his movements. Roo saw no weapons in the man’s hands, but guessed there was more than one of them secreted on him, within easy reach. His narrow face was covered by a two- or three-day growth of beard, and grey-shot, raggedly cut black hair hung loosely about his forehead and neck.
‘We was noticing you driving around and making deliveries. Wondered if you were new to Krondor?’
Roo glanced from the man’s face to the man next to Duncan, then looked around to see if the two were alone. A couple of others lingered in close proximity to the wagons, men who could aid their companions in moments, without calling attention to themselves until needed. Roo said, ‘Been here before, but just rolled into the city this morning.’
‘Ah!’ said the man, his voice surprisingly deep for one so thin. ‘Well then, you’d not be knowing about the local licenses and duties, would you?’
Roo’s gaze narrowed. ‘We declared our cargo at the gate to the Prince’s magistrate, and nothing was said about licenses and duties.’
‘Well, these aren’t the Prince’s licenses and duties, in a manner of speaking.’ The man lowered his voice so he would not be overheard. ‘There are ways to do business in the city and there are other ways, if you catch my drift. We represent interests that would seek to keep you from encountering difficulties in Krondor, if you follow me.’
Roo leaned against the back of the wagon, attempting to look casual, while judging how fast he could kill this man if needs be and what chance Duncan stood of disarming the man who held a dagger on him. Of the first he was confident; he could kill this man before his companions could take two steps in his aid, but Duncan didn’t have Roo’s combat training, and while a competent swordsman, he would probably die. Roo said, ‘I’m very stupid today. Pretend I don’t know anything and educate me.’
The man said, ‘Well, there are those of us in Krondor who like to make sure the daily commerce of the city goes undisturbed, if you see what I mean. We don’t care much for unseemly price wars and large fluctuations between supply and demand. Toward that end, we make sure that everything coming into the city has a reasonable profit, so that no one has too much an advantage, don’t you see? Keeps things civilized. We also keep thugs from roughing up merchants and destroying property, as well as make sure that a man can sleep in his bed at night without fear of having his throat cut, don’t you see? Now, to that end, we expect a compensation for our work.’
Roo said, ‘I see. How much?’
‘For your cargo, it would be twenty golden sovereigns’ – Roo’s eyes widened – ‘for each wagon.’
That was easily close to one half his expected profit on this cargo alone. His outrage couldn’t be kept below the surface. ‘Are you mad? Twenty sovereigns!’ He took a quick step back and said, ‘I think not!’
The man took a step after Roo, which he had anticipated, saying, ‘If you want your friend there to stay health –’
Suddenly Roo had his sword out and at the man’s throat before he could move away. The man was quick and tried to move back, but Roo followed, keeping the point of his sword touching skin. ‘Ah, ah!’ said Roo. ‘Don’t move too quickly; I might slip and then you’d get blood over everything. If your friend doesn’t get his dagger out of my cousin’s ribs or if either one of those two men across the street makes the wrong move, you’re sucking wind through a new hole.’
‘Hold on!’ shouted the man. Then, glancing sideways without moving his head, he shouted, ‘Bert! Get down!’
The man next to Duncan got down without question, while the man whom Roo held at sword’s point said, ‘You’re making a big mistake.’
‘If I am, it’s not the first,’ said Roo.
‘Cross the Sagacious Man and it’s the last,’ said the would-be extortionist.
‘Sagacious Man?’ said Roo. ‘Who would that be?’
‘Someone important in this city,’ answered the thin man. ‘We’ll mark this a misunderstanding, and you ask about. But when we come back tomorrow, I’ll expect better manners from you.’
He motioned for his two distant companions to leave and they quickly darted into the midday crush of people. Other pedestrians had stopped to watch the display of one man holding another at sword’s point, and it was obvious the thin man didn’t care for the scrutiny. A merchant looked out from his shop and started shouting for a city constable.
Glancing at Roo the man said, ‘If I’m handed over to the City Watch, you’re in even bigger trouble than you might be already.’ He licked his lips nervously. A shrill whistle sounded a block away, and Roo dropped his sword’s point and the man ducked away, vanishing into the crowd.
‘What was that?’ asked Duncan.
‘Shakedown.’
Duncan said, ‘Mockers.’
‘Mockers?’
‘Guild of Thieves,’ supplied Duncan as he patted his ribs to make sure they were still intact.
‘I expect. He mentioned someone named the Sagacious Man.’
‘That’s the Mockers, without a doubt. You can’t do business in a city like Krondor without having to pay off someone.’
Roo climbed aboard his own wagon and said, ‘Damn me if I will.’
If Duncan had an answer, Roo didn’t hear it as he untied the rope holding down the barrels and lowered the drop gate. A shout and men running down the street caused Roo to glance past the wagon to where members of the City Watch, wearing blue tunics and carrying large billy clubs, paused to see the merchant pointing at Roo.
Roo swore under his breath. The constable approached and said, ‘That gentleman tells me you was dueling in the street.’
Roo tossed a rope to Duncan. ‘Dueling? Me? Sorry, but he’s mistaken. I’m just unloading wine for this inn.’ He turned his chin toward the inn, as Duncan came down to help get the barrels off the top of the wagon.
‘Well then,’ said the constable, obviously unwilling to go searching for trouble when it was so abundant in Krondor, ‘just see it stays that way.’ He motioned for his partner and they returned the way they came.
Duncan said, ‘Some things never change. Unless I miss my bet, those two will be back in whatever pastry shop they were in when the whistle blew.’
Roo laughed. They lowered the five barrels to the street, and Roo convinced the innkeeper to send a worker to help Duncan carry them inside, so Roo could protect the wagons while the wine was delivered. After the remaining cargo was secured, they took reins and moved on to the next tavern.
At sundown, they had sold close to a third of the wine Roo had purchased in Ravensburg. More, they had recouped almost all the gold Roo had spent. Roo calculated that he stood to triple his money if business the next day or so was as brisk as it had been so far.
‘Where do we spend the night?’ asked Duncan. ‘And when do we eat? I’m starving.’
Roo said, ‘Let us find an inn with a good-sized yard so we can guard this wine against our friends.’
Duncan nodded, knowing full well whom Roo meant. They were in an area of the city unknown to Duncan, who had been to Krondor a number of times over the years, and from the wares displayed in the shop windows as they passed, not a terribly prosperous one. Roo said, ‘Let’s go around the block and head back the way we came. I think we’re leaving prosperity behind if we continue on this way.’
Duncan nodded and watched as Roo headed his team out into the traffic of the road. The street was full of travelers as those finished with the day’s work headed home, or to a local tavern or shop. Some shops were being shuttered, while others were lighting lanterns, indicating their proprietors were staying open past dark for those customers who could only shop in the evening.
They moved slowly through the press and Roo turned right into another street, and Duncan followed. It took them almost an hour to find an inn with a stable area big enough to accommodate their wagons behind locked gates. Roo made arrangements with the stableboy, took his sample cask, and led Duncan inside.
The inn was known as the Seven Flowers, and it was a modest establishment, catering to merchants and workers equally. Roo found a table near the bar and indicated Duncan should take a seat. He spied an interesting-looking barmaid, a little long in the face but with an ample spread of bosom and hip, and he said, ‘When you have a minute, if you’d bring us both a tankard of ale and dinner.’ He indicated the table where Duncan sat. The woman looked at the handsome Duncan and her smile betrayed her interest. Roo found his eyes fixed upon the woman’s bosom where it strained against the fabric of her dress and said, ‘And if you’re free at the end of the evening, join us.’ He tried his best to look charming, and the remark got him a neutral expression and a noncommittal noise. ‘Where’s the owner?’ asked Roo.
She indicated a heavyset man at the far end of the bar, and Roo made his way through a half-dozen customers and started his pitch. After providing samples of his wine and arguing price, Roo arrived at a price with the owner of the inn, including a night’s lodging and food, and returned to the table.
The food was average but ample and after weeks on the trail tasted wonderful. The ale was also average, but cold and plentiful. After the meal, when business had thinned, Duncan started working his charms on the serving girl, a woman of middle years named Jean. Another barmaid, a thin young woman named Betsy, joined them and somehow ended up sitting in Roo’s lap. Either Duncan was terribly funny in his storytelling or the ale gave everyone a more forgiving sense of humor. A couple of times the innkeeper had had to come over and order his barmaids back to work, but as the evening wore on, the two women had found their way back to Roo and Duncan’s company.
The pairing was obvious: Duncan had captured the attention of both women, but Jean, the more attractive of the two, had staked her claim early on, while Betsy was content to spend her time with Roo’s hand fondling her. Roo didn’t know if the girl really liked him or expected recompense, but he didn’t care. The soft heat of flesh under cloth had him aroused, and after a while he said, ‘Let’s go upstairs.’
The girl said nothing but rose and took his hand and led him upstairs. In his drunken state he didn’t remember hearing Duncan and Jean entering the room with them, but soon he was lost in the feel, smell, taste, and heat of being with a woman.
He was vaguely aware of Duncan and Jean on the pallet next to the one he shared with Betsy, but he ignored them. He had been with whores in camp less than a hand’s breadth from other soldiers, so he thought nothing of it.
He got out of his clothing and got Betsy out of hers in quick order, and was lost in passion when a shout came from outside followed by the sound of cracking wood. He almost didn’t notice it at first, but another crack followed, and suddenly, before thought was his, he was on his feet, pulling his sword from the scabbard, yelling, ‘Duncan!’
Naked, Roo raced down the stairs and into the common room. Deserted and dark, the room was an obstacle course as Roo tried to get to the inn’s courtyard door without laming himself on a chair or table. Duncan’s oaths from behind told Roo he wasn’t alone in his drunken difficulties.
Roo found the door, pulled it open, and hurried toward the stable where his horses were being cared for and his wagons were housed. His feet encountered wetness as his nose greeted him with a familiar aroma: wine.
He entered the dark barn cautiously, his intoxication gone with the rush of battle readiness. Duncan overtook him and Roo gripped his cousin by the arm, signaling in the dark to move to the side of the barn aisle. Something was wrong and Roo couldn’t put his finger on what that was until he saw the first horse. The animal lay on the ground, blood pooling from its neck. Quickly he took an inventory and found all four of his horses had been killed, their necks cut in exactly the right place to bleed them as fast as possible.
‘Oh, damn!’ said Duncan, and Roo hurried to find the stableboy lying in his own blood.
They dashed to the wagons and found that every barrel had been stove in or had the bung pulled, so that wine flooded the courtyard. The cracking of wood that Roo had heard had been someone using a large hammer on the spokes of the wheels, so that the wagons were now useless without expensive repair.
The innkeeper came hurrying across the courtyard when he saw the two naked men holding their swords.
‘What’s afoot?’ he asked, halting, as if afraid to approach these two strange apparitions any more closely. From his nightshirt it was clear he had turned in.
‘Someone’s killed your stableboy and my horses, and ruined my wagons and cargo,’ said Roo.
Abruptly a scream cut the night and Roo was running past the innkeeper before Duncan could react. Roo almost flew through the door to the inn, banging against a table, and took the stairs two at a time. He reached the room he and Duncan shared and took a half-step in, his sword leveled.
He faltered as Duncan came running up the stairs. Duncan looked over the shoulder of his shorter cousin and again he said, ‘Damn.’
Jean and Betsy lay upon the two pallets, their vacant gaze telling both men they were dead before the men could see the dark spreading stains flowing from where their throats had been cut. Whoever had come through the window had taken the two women from behind, killing them quickly and pulling them back on the mats. Roo was suddenly aware he was standing in something sticky and warm and realized the women had probably come to the door after the men had raced out, only to die before they realized someone had entered the room from the window.
Then Roo realized his clothing was strewn around the room. He quickly searched, and as the innkeeper arrived, Roo looked at Duncan and said, ‘They took the gold.’
Duncan seemed almost to go limp as he leaned against the doorjamb. ‘Damn,’ he said for a third time.
The constable of the City Watch was obviously anxious to be done with his investigation. He looked at the dead horses and the dead stableboy, and went into the inn to inspect the dead barmaids, and then asked Roo and Duncan a few questions. It was also obvious that he knew the Mockers were involved and this would be reported in as an ‘unsolved crime.’ Unless someone was caught in the act, finding criminals and proving guilt was a rare event in a city the size of the capital of the Western Realm. As the constable left he instructed them to report anything they discovered that might help solve the crime to the office of the City Watch, at the palace.
The innkeeper was devastated by the death of his three employees and voiced his fear that he was somehow slated to join them. He ordered Roo and Duncan out of his inn at first light and then barricaded himself in his room.
As the dawn came, Roo and Duncan walked out of the courtyard of the Inn of the Seven Flowers. The early morning press of business hadn’t begun, but already workers were moving toward their places of employment. As they entered the street, Duncan asked, ‘What now?’
Roo said, ‘I don’t know –’ He inhaled as he spied a familiar figure across the street. Lounging against the wall of the building opposite them was the thin man from the day before. Roo crossed the street, almost knocking down a hurrying workman, and as he reached the man, he heard him say, ‘Quietly now, stranger, else my friends will have to shoot you.’
Duncan overtook Roo in time to hear the remark and spun around, looking for the bowman. On the rooftop above, a bowman had an arrow drawn hard against his cheek, aimed in their direction. The thin man said, ‘I expect you now understand just the sort of troubles we can protect you from, don’t you?’
‘If I thought I stood a chance of not getting my cousin shot in the bargain,’ said Roo, his anger barely held in check, ‘I’d cut your liver out right now.’
‘Like to see you try,’ said the thin man. ‘You caught me by surprise yesterday, but it would never happen again.’ He then smiled, and there was nothing friendly in the expression. ‘Besides, there’s nothing personal in this, lad. It’s only business. Next time you seek to do business in Krondor, let those who can help you … help you.’
‘Why did you kill the boy and the girls?’ asked Roo.
‘Kill? Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said the man. ‘Ask anyone and they’ll tell you that Sam Tannerson was playing pokiir at Mama Jamila’s in the Poor Quarter all night long. Did someone go and get themselves killed?’ He made a signal and moved away, saying, ‘When you’re ready to try doing business again, ask around. Sam Tannerson isn’t hard to find. And he’s always willing to help.’ He quickly moved off into the press of traffic and vanished from sight.
After a moment Roo asked again, ‘Why did they kill the girls and the stableboy?’
Duncan said, ‘My guess is that if you’re too stubborn to pay them, they’re making sure everyone else knows the price of doing business with you.’
Roo said, ‘I’ve only felt more helpless once in my life, and that was when they were about to hang me.’
Duncan had heard the story of how Roo and his friend Erik had been reprieved from the gallows after a mock hanging. ‘Well, you may not be dead, as they say, but what will we do?’
Roo said, ‘Start over. What else is there to do?’ Then he added, ‘But first we head for the palace, and the office of the City Watch.’
‘What for?’
‘To tell them we know the name of the man who was behind this, Sam Tannerson.’
‘Do you think that’s his real name?’
‘Probably not,’ said Roo as he turned in the direction of the palace. ‘But it’s the one he uses, and it will do.’
Duncan shrugged. ‘I don’t know what good it’ll do, but as I have no better idea, why not?’ He fell in beside his cousin and they began walking toward the Prince of Krondor’s palace.
Erik looked out over the yard where the levies hurried through their drills. He remembered with some guilty pleasure the near fit Alfred, the corporal from Darkmoor, had thrown when informed he was now reduced to the rank of private in the Prince’s new army. The third time Erik had deposited him on his ear on the parade ground had convinced him to shut up and do as he was told. Erik suspected he would turn out to be a better than average soldier if he could learn to control his temper.
‘What do you think?’ asked Robert de Loungville from behind.
Without turning to look, Erik said, ‘I’d know better what to think if I knew what exactly you, the Duke, the Prince, and everyone else you meet with every night have in mind.’
‘You’ve been down there. You know what’s coming,’ said de Loungville without emotion.
‘I think we’ve got a few men here who might do well enough,’ answered Erik. ‘These are all seasoned soldiers, but some of them are worthless.’
‘Why?’ asked Robert.
Erik turned and looked at the man to whom he reported. ‘Some of them are barracks rats, fit for nothing much more than light garrison duty and three meals a day. I guess their lords decided it was cheaper to let us feed them. Others are too …’ He struggled for a concept. ‘I don’t know, it’s like a horse that’s been trained to do one thing, then you want to train him to do another. You’ve first got to break him of the old habits.’
Robert nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘Some of these men just can’t think on their feet. If you’re in a battle and giving orders, they’re going to be fine, but if they’re on their own …’ Erik shrugged.
Robert said, ‘Muster all the castle rats and those too set in their ways to think for themselves after the midday meal. We’re going to send them back to their lords and masters. I want the ones who can think on their feet assembled an hour after the first bunch leaves the castle. I need to get this first bunch trained before we do some serious recruiting.’
‘Serious recruiting?’
‘Never mind. I’ll tell you about it when the time’s right.’
Erik saluted and was about to leave when a guardsman hurried out of the castle, saluted, and said, ‘Sergeant, the Knight-Marshal wants you and the corporal down at the City Watch office at once.’
De Loungville grinned. ‘What do you think? Want to bet it’s one of our own?’
Erik shrugged. ‘No bet.’
Erik followed him through the maze of corridors in the Prince’s palace. The original keep, built centuries before to protect the harbor below from Quegan raiders and pirates, had been added to over the years until a large sprawling series of interconnecting buildings with outer walls rested hard against the harbor side and covered the entire hill upon which the old keep was the summit.
Erik was starting to find his way around and feeling a little more comfortable, but there were still things he didn’t understand about what was taking place here in Krondor. He had barely seen Bobby since returning to the city. He and Jadow had been given better than a hundred men each to oversee, with Bobby’s orders simply being ‘Put them through their paces and keep an eye on them.’ Erik wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but he and the other corporal had contrived some vigorous training exercises based on the ones they themselves had endured when first coming into de Loungville’s service. After a week of this, Erik now had a pretty good idea who would fit in with the sort of army Calis was fashioning, and who wouldn’t.
Calis hadn’t been seen since Erik returned, and when he had asked about their Captain’s whereabouts, de Loungville shrugged and said he was off on some errand or another. That made Erik uneasy, as did the fact that Erik’s place in the scheme of things was unclear to him. The regular guard in the palace either avoided him or treated him with unusual deference for a corporal. He had guard servants address him as ‘sir,’ and yet when he asked questions, he got brusque, even rude answers. It was clear there was some resentment on the part of the existing garrison over the creation of this new army of Calis’s.
As they reached the office of the Watch Commander, Erik found his hand reaching for his sword without thought at the sight of Roo backing out of the Watch Commander’s office with his own sword drawn.
A shout from within could be heard: ‘He’ll not harm you! Put that sword away!’ He recognized the voice as belonging to William, Knight-Marshal of Krondor.
Roo’s appearance was one of a man totally unconvinced, yet Erik couldn’t see what was causing his friend such alarm. He almost fell, he was so startled by what he saw next. Coming out of the Watch Commander’s office was a green-scaled serpent with large red eyes in an alligatorlike head on a long sinuous neck. Then Erik saw the thing’s body and saw it had wings. It was a small dragon!
Before Erik could do anything, Robert said, ‘Relax.’ He stepped forward and said, ‘Fantus! You old thief!’ He knelt next to the creature and put his arm around its neck, giving it a hug as if it were a favorite hound. Bobby told Erik and Roo, ‘This thing is a sort of pet to our Lord William, so don’t be upsetting the King’s cousin by trying to kill it, will you?’
Suddenly, from inside the office, Erik heard William’s laugh and then his voice: ‘He said he’d like to see them try.’
Bobby playfully rubbed behind the creature’s eye ridges and said, ‘Still a tough old boot, aren’t you?’
Erik took Robert at his word that this was a pet, albeit the most fantastic pet anyone had ever imagined. The creature looked him up and down and suddenly Erik was convinced there was intelligence behind those eyes.
Erik stepped around to where Roo remained hard against the wall and looked past the creature into the office. Inside, the Watch Commander stood, while Knight-Marshal William remained to one side of the desk. Lord William was a short man, barely as tall as Bobby, but he looked fit for his age, somewhere in his fifties. He was reputed to be among the shrewdest military minds in the Kingdom. It was said that in the last years of Prince Arutha’s tenure he spent nearly every day talking with the old Prince, learning everything he could. Arutha’s deeds had been part history, part legend, but he was accounted one of the finest generals in the annals of the Kingdom.
William said to Robert, ‘Lord James will be along in a minute,’ and added to Roo and Erik, ‘Would one of you please fetch some water. Your friend has fainted.’
Erik looked down, saw Duncan’s feet sticking through the doorway, and realized he must have been the first to step through the office and encounter the small dragon.
Erik said, ‘I’ll go,’ and was off. To himself he said, ‘Just when I was thinking things couldn’t get much stranger.’
• Chapter Five • Newcomer (#ulink_18207d9a-8bbe-5f7d-a6b0-38a1dbc72165)
Roo yawned.
The discussion had been under way for hours. His mind wandered, so that when he was asked a question, he had to say, ‘Excuse me, my lord? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.’
Lord James, Duke of Krondor, said, ‘Robert, I think our young friend here is in need of refreshment. Take him and his cousin down to the mess while William and I confer.’
They had been holding a discussion in the Watch Commander’s office since Roo had arrived, and until Lord James had mentioned refreshments and the mess, Roo hadn’t given much thought to the fact he and Duncan had not broken their fast. De Loungville motioned for Roo and Duncan to follow him.
Outside the office, as they moved down the hall, Roo asked, ‘Sergeant, what’s going on? I had almost no hope I’d ever see my money again, but I want that bastard Sam Tannerson’s guts on a stick for what he’s done.’
Robert grinned back over his shoulder. ‘You’re still a vicious little rodent, aren’t you, Avery? I admire that in a man.’
As they moved through the castle, Robert said, ‘It’s not so simple as mustering the watch, going out, hauling in this Tannerson, and hanging him.’
‘No witnesses,’ offered Duncan.
‘Right. And there’s the issue of why there were these killings.’
‘Why were there?’ asked Roo. ‘Destroying my wine would have been clear enough warning.’
Robert motioned for them to pass through a door into the soldiers’ mess as he said, ‘Well, that’s what the Duke and the Knight-Marshal are asking themselves this very minute, I’m betting.’
Roo saw Erik and Jadow standing at one end of the mess while a bunch of soldiers in grey tunics and trousers sat eating. He waved and Erik came over. ‘Sergeant?’ he asked, to see if there were orders.
‘Tell Jadow to keep an eye on those recruits, and join us.’
Erik did as he was ordered, and when he was seated with the others, castle serving boys hurried over with food and ale. Robert dug in and said, ‘I think we’re going to have a bit of fun tonight.’
Roo said, ‘Fun?’
‘Well, if I can judge the Duke,’ said de Loungville, ‘I think he’s going to come to the conclusion that there’s been just a little too much killing going on of late, and it’s time to do something about it.’
‘Do what?’ asked Duncan. ‘The Mockers have been in control of parts of this city since … since before I was born, I know that much.’
Robert said, ‘True, but then, there’s never been a Duke of Krondor like Lord James, that’s also a fact.’ He smiled and bit into a cold joint of mutton. Speaking around the mouthful, he said, ‘Better stoke up your fires, lads. I think we’re going to have a long night ahead of us.’
Roo asked, ‘Us?’
Robert said, ‘You’ll want to come along, Avery. It’s your gold we’re trying to recover, isn’t it? Besides, what else have you got to do that’s better?’
Roo sighed. ‘Right now, nothing.’
‘We’ll give you a bunk for the afternoon so you can get your beauty rest,’ said de Loungville. ‘I think we’re going to be up most of the night.’
Roo shrugged. ‘If there’s a slim chance to get my gold back, I’ll take it. It’s about what I started with, so I’ll be even – not counting my time.’ He looked at Erik. ‘That bit of gold you gave me was part of it, too.’
Erik shrugged. ‘You don’t invest thinking any venture’s a sure thing. I knew that.’
‘I’ll get it back for you somehow,’ Roo promised. He turned his attention to the men at the far end of the hall. ‘Those your new band of “desperate men,” Sergeant?’
De Loungville smiled. ‘Not desperate enough, but then we haven’t really gotten started with them. Right now we’re just weeding out those who don’t have what it takes, right, Erik?’
‘Right, Sergeant,’ Erik agreed. ‘But I’m still not quite sure what the three of us are supposed to be doing.’
‘We’ll figure it out,’ said Robert in a noncommittal tone. ‘With luck, Trenchard’s Revenge should be coming into port any day now, and maybe some more of our boys will be aboard.’
Duncan raised an eyebrow in question, but no one volunteered any details to him.
Roo said, ‘Where’s the Captain?’
Robert shrugged. ‘He took off with Nakor, for Stardock. He should be back in a few more weeks.’
‘I wonder what he’s up to,’ mused Roo.
Robert de Loungville’s expression changed to one that Roo knew well, and Roo instantly regretted his words. Everyone at the table, save Duncan, was privy to secrets known only to a few, and such lapses would put Roo into more trouble than he wished should he again speak out of turn.
Erik glanced at Roo and years of friendship communicated all Roo needed to see to understand that Erik also wished Roo to remain silent.
Roo cleared his throat. ‘I think I could use that nap if we’re going out tonight.’
Robert nodded and Erik smiled, and Duncan seemed not to notice any of the exchange, and table talk turned to the mundane.
Calis looked over the rail and said, ‘See that?’
Nakor squinted against the late afternoon sun. ‘Keshian patrol.’
Calis and his companions were on a river boat, hugging the coast of the Sea of Dreams, a few miles away from Port Shamata. Calis said, ‘They’re quite a long way on the wrong side of the border if we can see them from here.’
Nakor shrugged. ‘Kingdom, Kesh, always fighting over this area. Good farmland, rich trade routes, but no one ever gets crops in and no one drives caravans through the Vale of Dreams because of the border raiders. So it lingers, like an old man too sick to live but not ready to die.’ He looked at his companion. ‘Tell the garrison commander at Shamata and he’ll send a patrol out to chase the Keshians south!’ he added with a grin.
Calis shook his head. ‘I’m sure someone will eventually mention it to him.’ He smiled a wry smile. ‘I don’t think I need say anything to him. If I do, he might feel the need to impress the Prince of Krondor’s special envoy by starting a war for my amusement.’
Calis’s eyes stayed fixed on the horizon long after the Keshian patrol vanished from view. Poor Shamata was visible in the distance to the southeast, but they wouldn’t be there for another hour, given the light wind of midday.
‘What do you see out there, Calis?’ asked Nakor, his voice hinting at concern. ‘You’ve been moody since we got back.’
Calis didn’t need to explain many things to Nakor, who probably understood more about the Pantathian serpent priests and their evil magic than any man living. He had certainly seen some of the worst manifestations of it. But Calis knew that right now Nakor wasn’t speaking of anything that had to do with Calis’s concerns over the distant threat to the Kingdom. It was a more personal issue that weighed on Calis’s mind.
‘Just thinking of someone.’
Nakor grinned, and looked over his shoulder at Sho Pi, the former monk of Dala, who at Nakor’s insistence now slept upon a bale of cotton. ‘Who is she?’
‘You’ve heard me speak of her. Miranda.’
‘Miranda?’ asked Nakor. ‘Heard of her from several men. A woman of mystery by all reports.’
Calis nodded. ‘She is a strange woman.’
‘But attractive,’ added Nakor, ‘also by all reports.’
‘That too. There’s so much I don’t know about her, yet I trust her.’
‘And you miss her.’
Calis shrugged. ‘My nature is not common –’
‘Unique,’ supplied Nakor.
‘– and issues of companionship are confusing to me,’ finished Calis.
‘Understandable,’ said Nakor. ‘I’ve been married twice. First when I was young to … you know to whom.’
Calis nodded. The woman Nakor knew as Jorna had evolved into the Lady Clovis, an agent of the Pantathians they had faced more than twenty years previously the first time Nakor and Calis had ventured south to Novindus. Now she was the Emerald Queen, the living embodiment of Alma-Lodaka, the Valheru who had created the Pantathians, and the figurehead of the army building across the sea that would someday invade the Kingdom.
‘The second woman was nice. Her name was Sharmia. She got old and died. I still get confused when dealing with women I find attractive, and I’m six times your age.’ Nakor shrugged. ‘If you must fall in love, Calis, fall in love with someone who will live a long time.’
‘I’m not sure what love is, Nakor,’ said Calis with an even more rueful smile. ‘My parents are something unique in history and there’s no small magic in their marriage.’
Nakor nodded. Calis’s father, Tomas, had been a human child, transformed by ancient magic into something not quite human, not quite Dragon Lord – as humans called the Valheru – and that ancient heritage had been part of what had drawn Calis’s mother, Aglaranna, the Elf Queen in Elvandar, into a union with Tomas.
Calis continued. ‘While I’ve had my share of dalliances no woman has held my attention –’
‘Until Miranda,’ finished Nakor. Calis nodded. Nakor said, ‘Perhaps it’s the mystery. Or the fact that she’s not around very much.’ Nakor pointed to Calis. ‘Have you and she …’
Calis laughed. ‘Of course. That’s not a small reason I feel drawn toward her.’
Nakor winced. ‘I wonder if there is any man alive who doesn’t think he’s in love between the sheets at least once.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Calis.
Nakor said, ‘I forget that while you’re past fifty years of age, you’re still considered young by your maternal race’s standards.’
‘A child,’ said Calis. ‘Still learning how to conduct myself as a proper eledhel should.’ He used the name his mother’s people used for themselves, the race humans called elves.
Nakor shook his head. ‘Sometimes I think those priests who take vows of chastity understand what a drain it is to be constantly thinking about who you’re going to bed with.’
‘My mother’s people are not a bit like that,’ said Calis. ‘They feel something grow between one of them and their destined mate and at some point they just … know.’
Calis again looked out at the shore as the boat began to head in toward the inlet that led to Port Shamata. ‘I think that’s why I’m drawn to my human heritage, Nakor. The stately progress of the seasons in Elvandar has a sameness that I find only slightly reassuring. The chaos that is human society … it sings to me more than the magic glades of my home.’
Nakor shrugged. ‘Who’s to say what is right? You are unlike any other, but like every other man or woman born on this world, no matter what your heritage at birth, ultimately you must decide who you are to be. When you’re finished with this “childhood” of yours, you may decide it’s time to live for a while with your mother’s people. Just remember this much from an old man who really isn’t very good at learning things from other people: every person you encounter, whom you interact with, is there to teach you something. Sometimes it may be years before you realize what each had to show you.’ He shrugged and turned his attention to the scene before him.
As the boat headed in to the reed-lined shore, smaller boats could be seen wending their way along the coast, fowlers hunting ducks and other water birds and fishermen dragging their nets. The riverboat moved quietly along, and Nakor and Calis were silent for the remainder of the voyage.
Sho Pi awoke as the sounds of the town grew in volume, and by the time the boat rested at the docks, he was standing beside his ‘master’ and Calis. As he was the Prince’s envoy, Calis had the right of rank in departing, but he moved away from the gangway and allowed the other passengers to depart first.
When they at last left the boat, Calis studied the shoreline and the town of Port Shamata. The city of Shamata was separated from the port by almost eighty miles of farmland and orchards. Originally a garrison to defend the southern border of the Kingdom against Great Kesh, Shamata had turned into the Kingdom’s largest city in the south. A squad of soldiers waited for Calis on the docks, and instead of heading down toward the city of Shamata, they would follow the shore of the Sea of Dreams until they reached the river that flowed down from the Great Star Lake. They would follow the river to the lake and then to Stardock town, which sat on the south shore of the lake, opposite the magicians’ community on Stardock island.
Along the docks the usual assortment of beggars, confidence men, workmen, and hawkers moved, for the arrival of a boat from the coast meant opportunities, legal and otherwise. Nakor grinned as he said to Sho Pi, ‘Watch your purse.’
‘I don’t have one, Master.’
Nakor had finally despaired of ever getting the young man to stop calling him master, so he just ignored it now.
Calis laughed and said, ‘It’s an expression.’
They left the boat and were greeted at the foot of the gangway by a sergeant in the tabard of the garrison of Shamata. Like the border barons of the north, the garrison commander at Shamata answered directly to the Crown, so there was little court formality observed in the Vale of Dreams. Pleased to be free of any need to pay a social call on local nobles, Calis accepted the man’s salute and said, ‘Your name?’
‘Sergeant Aziz, m’lord.’
‘My rank is captain,’ said Calis. ‘We need three horses and an escort to the Great Star Lake.’
‘The pigeons arrived days ago, Captain,’ answered the sergeant. ‘We have a subgarrison here at the port, with ample horses and enough troops to provide for your needs. My Captain sends an invitation to dine with him this evening, Captain.’
Calis glanced at the sky. ‘I think not. We can ride at least four hours and my mission is urgent. Send your Captain my regrets at the same time you send for mounts and provisions.’ Casting around, he pointed to a disreputable-looking inn across the street from the docks. ‘You’ll find us there.’
‘At once,’ said the sergeant, and he gave orders to a soldier nearby, who saluted and spurred his mount away.
‘It should be no longer than an hour, Captain. Your escort, horses, and provisions should be here quickly.’
‘Good,’ said Calis, motioning for Sho Pi and Nakor to follow him into the dockside inn.
A genial setting, the inn was neither the worst any of them had seen nor the best. It was what one would expect from an inn located so close to the docks: fitting for a leisurely wait, but not somewhere one would choose to frequent if better accommodations were available or affordable. Calis ordered a round of ale and they waited for the return of their escort.
Halfway through their second drink, Nakor’s attention was diverted by a sound from without. An inarticulate cry and a series of monkeylike hootings followed quickly by the sounds of a crowd laughing and jeering. He rose and looked through the closest window. ‘I can’t see anything. Let’s go outside.’
‘Let’s not,’ said Calis, but Nakor had already vanished through the doorway. Sho Pi shrugged and followed his master out of the inn.
Calis stood and followed, deciding it was better to see what trouble Nakor could find before he got too deep into it.
Outside, a crowd had gathered around a man who hunkered down on his haunches as he gnawed on a mutton bone. He was easily the filthiest man Calis had ever seen. It looked – and smelled – as if the man hadn’t bathed in years. Spending time in the fields made one indifferent to the level of fastidiousness required in the Prince’s court, but even among common dockworkers and poor travelers, this man was a walking cesspool.
His hair was black, with touches of grey, and rank with oil and dirt. Shoulder-length, it was matted with debris and old food. His face was nearly black from dirt above an equally filthy beard, and the skin, where it showed through, was sunburned. He wore a robe so torn and ragged it seemed to have more holes than material; whatever color the robe had been was a memory, for now the shreds were stained and smeared.
Years of indifferent eating had left the man famine-thin, and there were sores on his arms and legs.
‘Do the dance!’ shouted one of the workers.
The crouching man growled like a beast, but when the call was repeated a few more times, he put down his nearly bare mutton bone and held out his hand. ‘Please,’ he said, with a surprisingly plaintive tone, almost as if a child were begging. The word came out ‘Plizzz.’
Someone in the crowd shouted, ‘Dance first!’
The ragged beggar stood and suddenly executed a furious mad twirling. Calis stopped behind Nakor, who stood watching the beggar closely. Something about the movements seemed vaguely familiar to Calis, as if hidden in the mad twirling was familiar movement. ‘What is this?’ he said.
Nakor spoke without looking back. ‘Something fascinating.’
The man finished dancing and stood there, swaying with weakness, and held his hand out. Someone in the crowd threw him a half-eaten piece of bread, which landed at the beggar’s feet. He instantly crouched and swept it up.
A supervisor shouted, ‘Here now, get back to work,’ and most of the dockworkers moved away. A few others remained a moment to watch the beggar; then they started to wander off.
Calis turned to a man he took to be a local and asked, ‘Who is he?’
‘Some crazy man,’ said the stranger. ‘He showed up a few months ago and lives where he can. He dances for food.’
‘Where did he come from?’ asked Nakor.
‘No one knows,’ said the townsman, moving along.
Nakor went over to where the ragged man crouched and knelt down before him, studying his face. The man growled like an animal and half turned away to protect his meatless bone and crust of bread.
Nakor reached into his carry sack and pulled out an orange. He stuck his thumb in and pulled off the peel, then handed a section to the beggar. The beggar looked at the fruit a moment, then snatched it from Nakor’s hand. He tried to stuff the entire orange into his mouth at once, creating a wash of orange juice that flowed down his beard.
Sho Pi and Calis came to stand behind Nakor and Calis said, ‘What is this?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered Nakor. He stood up. ‘But we need to take this man with us.’
‘Why?’ asked Calis.
Nakor looked down at the grunting beggar. ‘I don’t know. There’s something familiar about him.’
‘What? You know him?’ asked Calis.
Nakor scratched his chin. ‘He doesn’t look familiar, but given all that dirt, who can say. No, I don’t think I know him. But I think he may be important.’
‘How?’
Nakor grinned. ‘I don’t know. Call it a hunch.’
Calis looked dubious, but over the years Nakor’s hunches had proven to be important, often critical, so he only nodded. The sound of riders approaching signaled the arrival of their own mounts and escort. Calis said, ‘You’ll have to figure out how to convince him to get on a horse, though.’
Nakor stood, scratching his head. ‘Now, that would be a trick.’
Calis said, ‘And before anything else, we’re going to have to give him a bath.’
Nakor’s grin widened. ‘That will be an even better trick.’
Calis returned the grin. ‘Then you figure out how to do it. If I must, I’ll have the guards throw him into the sea.’
Nakor turned and stood considering the options before him as the riders reached Calis.
They gathered at a modest inn in the Merchants’ Quarter, a few streets over from the Poor Quarter of Krondor. The inn was under the control of the Prince of Krondor, though few who frequented it knew that fact. A back room was being used for a meeting, conducted by Robert de Loungville.
‘Duncan, you and William here’ – he indicated a man that Roo had never laid eyes on before – ‘will find your way to a small booth near the corner of Candlemaker Road and Dulanic Street. The man selling scarves and headcloths is a snitch for the Mockers. Make sure he doesn’t say anything to anyone. Knock him senseless if you must.’
Roo glanced at Erik, who shrugged. A dozen men who were strangers crowded into the small room with de Loungville and those who’d had lunch with him earlier in the day. It was now an hour past supper, and most of the shops were either closed for the day or doing their evening business. Erik and Roo were to travel with Jadow and de Loungville to a shop and wait across the street. Robert had impressed on them that if he gave the word they were to get into that shop as quickly as humanly possible. He said it twice, so Roo knew de Loungville viewed that as a critical part of the night’s mission.
‘You, you, and you,’ said Robert, pointing to three teams assigned to neutralize Mocker lookouts. ‘Out the back door.’
He was silent for a few minutes, then pointed to Duncan and the man named William. ‘Go now, out the front.’
They left, and over the course of the next ten minutes the rest of the agents were dispatched. When the four remaining men were alone, Roo said, ‘Who were those other men?’
‘Let’s say the Prince needs a lot of eyes and ears in his city,’ said de Loungville.
‘Secret police,’ said Jadow.
‘Something like that,’ said de Loungville. ‘Avery, you’re the quickest man here; stay close to me. Erik, you and Jadow are too big to escape notice for long, so stay where I put you and don’t move. Once we leave this inn, no talking. Any questions?’
There were none, and de Loungville led them out of the back of the inn. They hurried through the streets, attempting to look like nothing more than four citizens on some errand or another, urgent perhaps, but unremarkable.
They passed a booth at a corner where the Poor Quarter began and saw Duncan and the man named William engaged in deep debate with the vendor. Roo noticed that Duncan stood in such a way that his holding a sword point to the other man’s ribs was difficult to ascertain, while William was ready to intercept any who might come too close to the booth.
They turned down a short street to another avenue paralleling the first, and turned the corner. With a wave of his hand, de Loungville motioned for Jadow and Erik to secrete themselves within a deep and relatively dark doorway, while he quickly moved across the street with Roo. Using hand signals, he indicated Roo should stand against the wall between a doorway and a window. De Loungville took up a position at the corner of the building, between the door and an alleyway that ran next to the building. From within the building, Roo heard the sounds of what he took to be a merchant moving portions of his inventory around. He resisted the impulse to peek into the window and tried to look like a man simply lounging for a minute, while he kept his eyes darting around, looking for signs of trouble.
A figure swept out of the darkness, bundled in a great cloak. Vaguely, behind him, figures seemed to melt away into the darkness and Roo sensed more than saw others taking up nearby positions.
The robed man moved purposefully past Roo and took the three steps up to the door of the establishment. Roo glimpsed him as he passed and Roo’s eyes widened. The man entered the shop, closing the door behind. Roo heard a voice say, ‘Can I help –’
‘Hello,’ interrupted a familiar voice.
A long silence was followed by the first voice saying, ‘James?’
‘It’s been a while,’ answered Lord James, Duke of Krondor. ‘What? Forty years?’
‘More.’ There was a long silence, then the man said, ‘I assume your men are outside.’
‘Sufficient to make sure this conversation is uninterrupted and ends when I say it ends.’
Again there was a silence, and the sound of two men moving around. What sounded like chairs being pulled across the floor ended with James saying, ‘Thank you.’
‘I don’t suppose it would do any good claiming I’ve long since gone straight and am nothing more than a simple merchant.’
‘Claim all you want, Brian,’ said James. ‘Thirty years ago, when I had heard a merchant named Lysle Rigger had shown up in Krondor, I asked Prince Arutha to set agents on you like hounds on a trail. Even when I was ruling in Rillanon these last twenty years, I’ve had regular reports on you.’
‘Rigger. I haven’t used that name in years. I haven’t used that name since – where was it we met?’
‘We met in Lyton,’ said James.
‘Yes, now I remember,’ came the reply. ‘I used it only a few times since then.’
‘No matter.’ James sighed audibly. ‘It took the Prince’s men a few years to make sure they had all your bolt-holes covered and your runners identified, but once they did, it was easy enough for me to keep track of you.’
‘You’ve better men than we thought. We’re always on the lookout for agents of the Crown.’
James said, ‘That’s because until tonight we were content to simply watch. Remember, I used to be a Mocker. There are still a few around who remember Jimmy the Hand.’
‘Now what?’
‘Well, you’re going to have to change your name again, and do something about your appearance. If you don’t, the beggars and thieves will decide it’s time for a new leader.’
There was a chuckle and Roo strained to hear every word. ‘You know, it all goes back to that business with the Crawler. If he hadn’t tried to take over the guild in the first place, we’d have had a far more orderly change than we had when the Virtuous Man took over. That was a mess.’
‘So I hear,’ said James. ‘But that’s neither here nor there. What brings me to you tonight, Lysle, or Brian if you prefer, is this: lately, you’ve lost control over the guild. Too many happy little cutthroats are running around my city killing my law-abiding, taxpaying citizens. A little theft and larceny are normal for a city like Krondor, but last night one of your butchers killed a stableboy, two barmaids, and four horses as a “warning” to a young wine merchant that he needed to pay protection.’
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Raymond E. Feist
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: The second book in the bestselling Serpentwar series.It’s hard to build a business empire in the midst of magic and murder…After a harrowing brush with the armies of the Emerald Queen Roo Avery is now free to choose his own destiny. His ambition is to become one of the most powerful merchants in Midkemia.But nothing can prepare him for the dangers of the new life he has chosen, where the repayment of a debt can be as deadly as a knife in the shadows and betrayal is always close at hand.But the war with the Emerald Queen is far from over and the inevitable confrontation will pose the biggest threat yet to Roo′s newfound wealth and power.