Jimmy the Hand: Legends of the Riftwar, Book 3

by Raymond E. Feist

  Coe gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh. ‘Well, for starters, you see that loop in front of your left knee? You can slide the scabbard of your sword through it. Until you’ve ridden a little more, having it loose at your side can be dangerous.’

  Jimmy slid Prince Arutha’s gift from his belt-sling and through the loop and the sheath settled firmly.

  ‘Riding’s more like dancing than just sitting down on the animal. You’re quick and strong, though, it shouldn’t be too hard. Just remember that the horse’s back is going up and down whenever it’s moving. The faster it goes, the faster the movement. That’s why you grip–so you don’t bounce up and down even harder. Use your knees like springs–as if you were jumping down from a height…’

  All right, I’ll try that, Jimmy thought: he was reminded of the way Prince Arutha had shown him the sword. He was immediately aware that the mare was more relaxed. Which makes one of us, he thought bitterly.

  ‘Now remember that the horse can feel what you want it to do. If you squeeze tighter with your thighs and lean forward, it knows you want to go faster. If you lean back, it knows you want to stop. Try turning it by pressing one knee, touching the rein to the same side of its neck, and leaning a little forward and in the way you want to go–just a little, more a matter of shifting your balance than moving–you only pull on the bit when you need to shout. Right, that’s good. Now–’

  ‘This is pretty tiring,’ Jimmy said after a few minutes.

  ‘That’s probably because you’re too tense,’ Coe said. ‘And you’re using muscles you haven’t used before. Don’t worry, it gets easier with experience.’

  ‘I hope we don’t have far to go,’ Jimmy muttered.

  Coe did laugh at that. ‘Look at the bright side; you’ll cover more ground on horseback.’

  ‘I just won’t be able to walk at the end of it.’

  ‘You’re young and fit, Jimmy; it’ll pass quickly.’ Coe moved a little ahead and said nothing else for a time, leaving Jimmy to sort himself out. After he and the horse had come to an understanding Jimmy rode forward until he was by the older man’s side.

  Jimmy felt discomfort in his legs, but nothing compared to the discomfort he felt about Coe and his relationship to the men they were following. Acting casual, he asked, ‘These men you’re looking for, they’re friends of yours?’

  Coe shook his head. ‘No. I just think they might have some information I need.’ He turned to look at Jimmy. ‘And you?’

  The young Mocker distinctly remembered telling him that he was going to meet some friends. Evidently he hadn’t been believed. I was going to have to tell him the truth sooner or later. Might as well tell him now. ‘Truth is,’ he said cautiously, ‘I’ve never even seen them.’

  ‘Correspondents are you?’ Coe asked, grinning.

  Jimmy didn’t even smile. Instead, he shook his head. ‘No, sir. It’s like this: Flora and I met this girl, a farm-girl just come into the city looking for her brother. She’s hurt and can’t go anywhere and she says these men took her brother from her family’s steading. She asked me to go get him back.’

  ‘Just like that?’ Coe asked. He looked genuinely astonished. ‘It’s very generous of you, Master Jimmy, but how were you planning to persuade them to give the boy up?’

  ‘First I needed a horse,’ the young thief replied, ‘so I was concentrating on that problem when you appeared. And the horse problem got resolved so quickly, well…’ Jimmy hesitated. ‘Truth is, I hadn’t actually planned that far ahead.’

  Coe chuckled. ‘Well, isn’t this something?’ He shook his head, then said, ‘We seem to be following the same two men. They are very, very dangerous.’

  Jimmy tried to sound confident. ‘I’ve had dealings with dangerous men before.’

  Coe looked at Jimmy and there was no humour in his expression. ‘This is no lark, boy. So if you’ve any notions of doing heroic deeds with no one getting hurt I suggest you turn that beast around right now and hie yourself back to Land’s End. Because that’s not the way things will happen. These two have information I need, and they will probably be disinclined to give it freely. I expect blood will flow before we’re through. And since I don’t want you disturbing my plans I must insist that I be in charge. Because I do have a plan and I’m going to assume I’m also more experienced in this sort of thing. Follow my instructions, and we’ll try very hard to ensure that the blood which flows isn’t ours. Are we agreed?’

  Jimmy sat silently, then he laughed. ‘I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I am to be with someone who has a plan. Because I was talked into this much against my better judgment and have no idea of what I’m doing.’ He let out a theatrical sigh of relief. ‘So what are we going to do?’

  If the older man was taken aback by Jimmy’s practical enthusiasm he hid it behind an unmistakable expression of pure doubt. Then he sighed and picked up the pace.

  ‘First,’ he said, ‘we must find them.’

  TWELVE

  Escape

  Two men crested the rise.

  They rode into sight as they reached the summit of the next hill. Jimmy pointed them out, then turned to see Coe’s reaction. His companion wore a startled, unhappy expression, as though someone had just dumped something cold and slimy down between his collar and his skin.

  Jimmy frowned, forgetting the areas he felt like rubbing at the moment. Which were many. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Jarvis rubbed a spot on his chest, then grabbed something beneath the cloth of his shirt and pulled it away from his body. They’d been riding since mid-morning, about five hours or so as well as Jimmy could judge; he didn’t realize how used he was to the shadows of the city telling him what time it was. They hadn’t stopped to rest the horses either, and the animals appeared to Jimmy’s untrained eye to be no less fatigued than his legs and backside were. Moreover, Jarvis Coe hadn’t proven talkative along the way, and Jimmy was still a little vague on what it was they were going to accomplish once they got wherever they were going. He returned his attention to Coe, who still stared at the two men on the next rise.

  ‘Master Coe?’ Jimmy prompted.

  The man’s eyes moved and he stared at Jimmy’s face, but it was a moment before they seemed to actually see him. ‘There’s a wicked feeling about this place,’ he said.

  Jimmy looked around: there was a copse of trees to the right, fields to the left and up ahead, a slight rise in the land with a jut of rock around which the road wound and which now hid their quarry. A peasant was working in the field, taking something out of a sack and throwing it on the lumpy ploughed land. He shook his head. ‘Seems ordinary enough to me.’

  Coe looked at him sideways, still clutching whatever it was he wore beneath his shirt. Then he shrugged. ‘Perhaps I’m mistaken. Just a feeling after all.’ He gave his head a hard shake and blinked his eyes. ‘Was there something you wanted?’

  All right, Jimmy thought. He’d had ‘feelings’ of his own a time or two. Time to get careful. Maybe my bump of trouble doesn’t work outside the city, and Jarvis Coe’s does. ‘I saw two men riding up ahead,’ he said aloud.

  ‘Then let’s try to catch up to them.’ Coe trotted ahead. When Jimmy caught up to him the older man looked over at him. ‘Do you have a weapon besides the sword?’ he asked.

  ‘My knife,’ Jimmy said, his voice implying a shrug he couldn’t manage at a trot.

  ‘Lag behind me as I catch them up. I’ll tell them I need directions to Land’s End. When they tell me it’s behind us I’ll berate you for getting the innkeeper’s directions wrong.’

  Jimmy grimaced and Coe said, ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s a little hard to miss Land’s End from the road if you think about it.’

  Coe tried not to laugh. ‘I was never very good at subterfuge on my feet. What do you suggest?’

  ‘Just ask if they mind if we travel along, in case of highwaymen. That should distract them, even if they say “no”.’

  ‘Very
well. We ride up together. I’ll hale them and start talking while you look for the boy, if you can get close enough, grab him and run. I’ll take care of the rest. Understood?’

  ‘Yes,’ the young Mocker said. It seemed a reasonable enough plan. ‘If it’s them they must have been dragging their heels for us to catch up to them when they left so long before us.’

  Coe didn’t answer, but then he didn’t need to: Jimmy was self-evidently correct. When they made the turn around the low hill they found the two men, their horses at a standstill, apparently having an argument. The smaller man had a bulky sack tied onto his horse behind the saddle, but there was no sign of a child. The two men looked back at them and their horses began to prance nervously.

  ‘Excuse me, sirs,’ Jarvis called out. ‘Could you spare a moment, please?’

  The two men looked at one another and shortened their reins; then, before Jimmy could catch up to Coe, they set heels hard to their horses’ sides and took off down the road as though pursued by demons.

  ‘Well that certainly looks guilty,’ Jimmy muttered.

  Coe didn’t hear him; he’d whipped his horse after the two men as soon as they’d started off. It was a chase they had no hope of winning, for their horses were hardly as fresh as the kidnappers’. They’d been riding steady, while the two men had apparently dawdled along with many a rest, for Jarvis and Jimmy to have overtaken them so soon.

  Still, we have to try, and we might get lucky.

  Jimmy clapped his heels into the horse’s sides. It took off after the other man’s mount: horses were obviously gang-minded, Jimmy decided. He could feel the power of the gait, the thunder of hooves and the rushing speed, faster than anything he’d experienced before–and the hammering of the saddle against his abused hams. Jimmy flapped his elbows like a chicken, but he had almost supernatural balance, and managed to get into the rhythm of the horse’s gait without difficulty. He had the odd notion that he had no idea what to do if the horse decided to stop suddenly; Jarvis hadn’t mentioned how to ride at a gallop and he genuinely had no idea of what to do to slow the animal. The saddle was slamming him hard in the arse and his teeth were rattling. He put his heels down, as Coe had reminded him several times during the day, and stood up in the stirrups. Suddenly, his teeth stopped rattling and his head stopped bouncing enough to have a clear view ahead. Ah ha! he said silently, that’s how you do it! He let his knees flex and his legs and hips rolled with the horse’s gait, while his upper body remained relatively level with the road.

  For a giddy moment, Jimmy thought, this riding business isn’t so bad if you keep your wits about you. Then the horse decided it was tired of running, and it was only Jimmy’s uncanny reflexes and superior sense of balance that kept him from launching from the horse’s back, landing on the hardpan road with painful consequences. As it was, he ended up in front of the saddle, hugging the animal’s neck. The horse seemed irritated by the unexpected display of affection and with a snort began to trot, returning Jimmy to the teeth-rattling again.

  Jimmy pushed himself back into the saddle, and started his rocking motion for a trot. He was about to try another gallop, when the horse crested a rise.

  Beyond the next hill was a large, fortified manor house–practically a castle–with a moat around it; it lay among rather neglected-looking gardens and there was a low wall around those with a wrought-iron gate at the end of a lane that gave off from the main road. The two men headed for it like lost chicks to a mother hen.

  Jimmy pulled up suddenly, or perhaps his horse did. He could feel a wrongness, almost exactly as if something very dead and very cold had drawn a hand down his spine and then pushed the hand inside him to clutch at his gut. He yelped without volition and the horse whinnied in protest, then suddenly he found himself headed back towards Land’s End at a gallop without any instructions he could remember. It was only with difficulty that he managed to pull up, leaning back in the saddle, bracing his feet in the stirrups and hauling down until the horse’s mouth nearly touched its chest.

  He looked around, panting, and Coe was right on his heels, looking pale and grim, if more in command of his mount.

  ‘What was that?’ the young thief asked. ‘Ruthia, what was that?’

  It was a long moment before the older man answered. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. He gave Jimmy a quick look. ‘It’s good to know I wasn’t the only one to feel it, though.’ He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘We should get out of here in case they send someone out looking for us. I’m fairly certain I could handle those two brigands, but I’m not willing to take on a dozen household guardsmen.’ He started down the road, then looked over his shoulder. ‘You staying?’

  Jimmy looked at him, then back toward the manor house. ‘No sir,’ he said and followed.

  ‘Where have you been? I wanted him here last night!’

  Rip didn’t recognize the voice. It sounded like a very crabby old man. He felt funny, like when he had been sick last winter and slept all the time. He felt too warm and too wrapped up but when he thought to move, he discovered he was too tired to do anything about it. He couldn’t be bothered even to open his eyes. Besides, his hands wouldn’t move, and his feet were tucked under him and he just couldn’t seem to think of what to do next. But he could listen.

  ‘Sorry, m’lord. But the boy’s place was a long way away. We left Land’s End at dawn this morning, sir.’ This was the growly voice he’d been hearing lately. He’d never heard him sounding so nice before.

  ‘Dawn you say! And it took you half a day to get here! Did you carry your horse on your back? Did you walk on your hands like a mountebank? Five hours!’

  ‘Well but, sir, if we was too late by not ‘aving ’im ’ere last night wot does it matter if we babied the ’orses this mornin’? The poor creatures is that tired, me lord.’

  That last was the weasel voice, or so Rip thought of it. And even now he didn’t sound nice, but wheedling and whining and nasty.

  ‘Impudence!’ cried the old man. There was the muffled sound of someone being clouted. ‘Take your money and go!’

  There was a clinking sound muffled somewhat, like coins in a sack dropping to the ground. Then there was a silence that went on too long. Rip shifted uncomfortably and wished everyone would shut up and go away.

  ‘Thank ye, sir,’ the growly voice said at last.

  Rip felt himself lifted, and sensed he was being carried. It wasn’t uncomfortable and this person wasn’t talking, which was a relief. He heard the click of a lock being undone, then a door being opened. Then more walking, followed after a while by the sound of another door being unlocked. Then he felt himself being lowered onto something soft. He relaxed and settled down to sleep at last.

  Rip woke as if swimming up from a dark place. He blinked and stirred, not knowing where he was. Then he felt a presence and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

  ‘He’s awake!’

  Rip’s eyes opened in surprise. A girl with dark eyes and curly brown hair was in front of him. She seemed a year or two older than Rip, though she was petite enough she wasn’t a half-head taller. She grinned. ‘I’m Neesa,’ she said. ‘Who are you?’

  He was in a room–a big room, bigger than his family’s whole house! And the bed was big too, bigger than Ma and Da’s bed, with smooth sheets. There were hangings on the wall, cloth with pictures in them, pictures like old stories.

  He was taken completely by surprise when a boy roughly his own age hopped up on the bed and began jumping up and down.

  ‘What’s yer name? What’s yer name? What’s yer name?’ the boy shouted gleefully.

  ‘Stop that, Kay!’ an older girl said, giving the boy a shove that knocked him onto his back. ‘You know what it feels like when you wake up.’

  Kay giggled, ignoring the girl’s glare. She offered Rip a clay cup. ‘Thirsty?’ she asked.

  Rip nodded, took the cup and upended it, drinking its contents down in a few big gulps. It was some sort of fruit juice, but not like apple ci
der; more like berries.

  He gasped for air and said, ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I was thirsty it seemed like forever,’ the girl said. ‘I’m Amanda. My family calls me Mandy.’ She was older than Rip, looking to be almost as old as Lorrie, but unlike his sister, Mandy was a solemn-looking girl, with bright blonde hair and pale blue eyes.

  ‘Rip,’ he said by way of introduction. ‘Where am I?’

  The room he was in had stone walls under the cloth; he felt a moment’s awe at how much of the fancy cloth there was. He knew how long Ma and Lorrie had to work to make even enough for a new shirt.

  The stones neatly shaped into blocks, not like the stones in the fireplace at home. People in funny clothes riding horses rippled in a draught; it wasn’t really very warm, and there was a queer musty smell to the air he didn’t much like. The bed, he looked around–no, beds–had lots of covers. His even had a roof on it, like a fancy tent.

  ‘You’re in my bed,’ Mandy said. Not that she was going to kick him out of it immediately, but like she was just letting him know he couldn’t stay forever.

  ‘Are we in a castle?’ Rip asked. He couldn’t think of anywhere else that had stone walls. And–that word Emmet told me in the story of King Akter–tapestries! Yes, those are tapestries! And kings live in castles of stone.

  Mandy shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s a castle.’

  ‘We can’t go out,’ Neesa said. She glanced around and put her arms around herself, as if cold.

  ‘Sometimes they come and take someone,’ Kay said. He lowered his voice to a whisper, ‘And they never come back.’

  Rip looked around. He didn’t know what had happened, why he wasn’t safe at home with his parents. He was frightened. ‘Maybe their mothers and fathers come and take them home,’ he said hopefully.

  Kay’s face screwed up into a mean little knot. ‘You just got here! You don’t know anything!’ He hopped off the bed and ran over to one of the other beds, flopping down and turning his back to them. Rip could hear sobbing as Kay cried into the covers.