King of Foxes

by Raymond E. Feist

  “Your plan sounds brilliant on the surface, but there are forces involved far beyond you and Kaspar, or even the Conclave and Leso Varen. The Conclave will do its part in shielding you from Varen’s powers. If we are correct in our surmise as to what he is trying to accomplish, most of his energies will be directed elsewhere, and if that is the case, he will be vulnerable. Even so, he will be the most dangerous player in this game, for while I am his equal in power, he has no scruples and will think nothing of destroying everything around him rather than face defeat.”

  Tal said, “You’re filling me with optimism.”

  Pug laughed. “It’s all a risk. But then, all life is a risk.”

  “This is true,” said Tal, sipping his wine. “So, once we convince King Ryan, what next?”

  Pug smiled. “The hard part. Convincing King Carol and the Keshian Ambassador.”

  Tal shook his head. “You’d better speak fast then, Pug, _______________

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  for I’ve the death mark on me should I set foot on Roldemish soil again.”

  Pug said, “I’ll speak very fast.”

  Tal sat back, thinking. He knew the plan was bold, reckless, even mad, but it was their only hope for a decisive and sudden victory over Kaspar.

  However, the prospect of finally destroying Olasko didn’t fill him with keen anticipation. Instead, he felt only a dull hollowness. He sipped his wine.

  __

  A delegation of Roldem’s officials, as well as a full honor guard, waited at the dockside as the King of the Isles’ ship was made fast at the quay. As the gangplank was run out, the officials stepped forward, ready to receive the unannounced royal visitor, for at the top of the mainmast of the ship, the pinion of the royal house of the Isles flew, telling the world that a member of the royal family was aboard.

  Instead of a richly dressed noble, however, a short man in a dark robe walked down the gangplank, followed by a figure all too familiar to many of those in attendance, carrying a single canvas travel bag.

  The Chancellor of the King’s House stepped forward.

  “What is the meaning of this?” He pointed at Tal and said, “Place that man under arrest.”

  Pug held up his hand. “That man is under the protection of the King of the Isles, and is a member of this delegation.”

  “And who are you, sir?”

  Pug said, “I am called Pug, known as the Black Sorcerer by some, and am representing King Ryan.”

  “But the royal banner flies upon the mast!”

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  Pug said, “I’m embarrassed to admit I imposed upon the King to permit this, though I am a member of the royal family by adoption, albeit a distant one. My name is recorded in the archives of the house of conDoin; I was adopted by Duke Borric, great-grandfather to King Ryan.”

  The Chancellor seemed totally confused by all this.

  “Your credentials, sir?”

  Pug held out an ornate bundle of papers, all drawn up hastily, but with attention to detail, by the scribes in King Ryan’s service. They were affixed with all the appropriate seals, and they named Duke Pug of Stardock and Squire Talwin Hawkins as ambassadors extraordinaire to the Court of King Carol and to the Court of the Emperor of Great Kesh and outlined that the two emissaries had a great degree of latitude in binding the Isles to any number of agreements.

  “All this seems in order . . . Your Grace.” With a dark look at Tal, the Chancellor said, “Please come with me, gentlemen.”

  As they approached a carriage, Tal threw his bag up to a coachman and followed Pug inside. The Chancellor got in after them, saying, “Your luggage will be brought up to the palace.”

  Tal said, “I just handed up our luggage, sir.”

  “You’re not staying long then, sir?”

  Tal grinned. “If we are here more than two days, I will be surprised.”

  The Chancellor looked at Pug and said, “Pardon my frankness, Your Grace”—then he looked at Tal—“but if the Squire here leaves this island alive, I will be surprised.”

  Tal shrugged. “We’ll let the King decide that.”

  They rode in silence the rest of the way to the palace.

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  __

  Duke Rodoski could barely contain his anger. The King had listened to everything Pug had said, then like King Ryan, King Carol had insisted on a full presentation before his privy council and the Ambassador of the Empire of Great Kesh. The Duke had almost drawn his sword on entering the hall and seeing Tal sitting there.

  “You will behave yourself, sir!” commanded the King.

  “These men are here under the banner of the Isles, and will be treated with diplomatic courtesy.”

  The Duke had shot back, “Whatever they have to say will be lies, cousin!”

  “Sit down, sir!” the King roared.

  Duke Rodoski did as he was told, but his suspicion was openly displayed.

  Pug waited as the King called his councilors to order.

  The Chancellor addressed the King and his council.

  “Majesty, my lords, this . . . oddly dressed gentleman is Pug, Duke of Stardock and cousin to King Ryan. I have asked him to repeat to you what he told me earlier today.

  Your Grace?”

  Pug stood up, and said, “First I would like to make clear that the title of Duke is a courtesy only; I renounced my allegiance to the Isles back when Ryan’s father, Patrick, was Prince of Krondor. I am cousin to the King, but a very distant one.

  “Second, I caution you that what I am about to say to you will stretch your belief to its limit. You will hear things that will leave you wondering if I am bereft of all reason, but I will tell you now, my lords, I am very sane, and what I tell you is not wild imagining.”

  “In your archives, I am sure, will be certain reports _______________

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  gathered by your agents back during the reign of Rodric IV of the Isles. The fact of the Riftwar, the invasion of our world by the Tsurani, is not in question; it is historic fact, but behind that fact lies a tale far more incredible than what is known.

  “The war was the result of a manipulation of incredible scale that pitted two worlds against each other, and toward only one end: the use of an ancient artifact hidden under the city of Sethanon, an artifact known as the Lifestone.” He looked at King Carol. “I would be very surprised if any of this is recorded in your archives, Majesty.

  Of those who survived the battle of Sethanon, when the armies of the Brotherhood of the Dark Path marched south under the banner of the false prophet, Murmandamus, the only living beings who knew the truth were myself, Tomas—consort to the Elf Queen Aglaranna—

  Prince Arutha, and later King Lyam, and two Tsurani magicians, now long dead.

  “Twice more the Lifestone was threatened, first by Delekhan, another moredhel chieftain, and then by the armies of the Emerald Queen.”

  “What is this Lifestone?” asked Rodoski. “Why is it so important that wars are fought over it?”

  “It was an ancient thing, created by a race that lived on this world before the coming of man, the Valheru, and it was supposed to be a weapon to be used against the gods. Murmandamus, Delekhan, and the Emerald Queen all wished to use it to rule the world.”

  “Are you claiming that Kaspar of Olasko is going to seize this Lifestone?” asked King Carol.

  “No,” said Pug. “The stone was . . . destroyed years ago. It no longer poses a threat.” He thought better of trying to explain to them that the stone had been used by Tomas’s son Calis to free trapped life-essences, helping _______________

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  partially to restore an ancient balance between good and evil.

  The Keshian Ambassador said, “I believe we have some mention of this in our archives, Your Grac
e.”

  Pug smiled. “No doubt. There was a force of Dog Soldiers under the command of Lord Hazara-Khan involved in the first battle of Sethanon. I don’t imagine he neglected to report everything he saw.”

  “I find it incredible to believe you were there and that you knew him,” said the Ambassador. “That was more than a century ago.”

  “I age well,” said Pug dryly. “Now, to the point under discussion. Kaspar of Olasko has been wreaking havoc over the region for the last ten years now, including the murder of the Princess of Salmater and the Prince of Aranor, as well as a planned assassination of every member of the Royal House of Roldem.”

  Rodoski could not restrain himself. His hand shot out, and he pointed an accusing finger at Tal. “And that man was instrumental in it. He killed Svetlana of Salmater and was going to be involved in my assassination.”

  Pug shrugged. “An attempt you easily avoided, Your Grace, which brings me to this point. Kaspar’s ambitions are naked and without subtlety. He seems not to care that the world knows he wishes to sit upon the throne of Roldem. And perhaps the Isles as well someday.

  “But Kaspar is not a stupid man, so you must ask yourself, why so blatant a series of moves? Why show such disregard for disguising his ambitions and contempt for your reaction to his moves?”

  Rodoski sat back. Tal could tell that even the angry duke was intrigued by the question.

  “The answer,” said Pug, “is the reason King Carol must exercise the mutual defense agreement he has with _______________

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  Great Kesh. The Ambassador must urge the Emperor to call north those garrisons on the eastern seaboard of the Empire, and quickly. The Roldemish navy must go to those ports, then transport those soldiers to anchor off Opardum.

  “King Ryan will send an army up to threaten Olasko Gateway, and Squire Hawkins will lead a force into the citadel itself. All of this must be completed before winter comes, for Kaspar is readying himself to make his true move on Midwinter’s Night. In the citadel at Opardum, in a wing of the building where few are permitted, resides a man known as Leso Varen. He is a mage of great power and black arts. He serves forces of evil and chaos that seek to obliterate all laws and covenants, traditions and social contracts, all that makes men lawful and peaceful. I cannot stress strongly enough the concept you must accept, that these powers dwarf your normal notion of what good and evil entail. If you’re sane men, I think it impossible for you to envision the degree of horror that awaits this world if this man Leso Varen isn’t stopped.”

  “So you need all the eastern garrisons of Kesh and the Roldemish navy to destroy this one man?” asked the Keshian Ambassador.

  Pug said, “In a nutshell, yes.”

  The King said, “While we waited for the council, we consulted our archives regarding you, Duke Pug. If what I read is to be believed, you yourself are a magician of great power. Your age alone gives me cause to think these reports are true.

  “That being the case, why have you not sought out and destroyed this Leso Varen?”

  Pug smiled, and there was pain in the smile. “I’ve faced this man before, Your Majesty. He has used several different names along the way, but I recognize the stink of _______________

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  his black arts the way you know a skunk by its smell. He is not an easy man to kill. Trust me when I tell you I have tried.” His voice lowered and his eyes became reflective for a moment as he said, “Once . . . I thought him dead, but obviously I was wrong.”

  “Very well,” said Duke Rodoski. “You’ve painted a bleak picture of this man’s powers, and told us a story of something dangerous that was destroyed years ago.

  Would you like to tie this up so that we understand it?”

  Pug said, “It is my belief that Leso Varen is in the process of creating another Lifestone. And that he means to use it on the darkest night of the year, Midwinter’s Night.”

  The King sat back. “Another Lifestone? What exactly will that do?”

  Pug said, “Sire, it is something that can be utilized in any number of ways, some for good in the right hands.

  But I will wager my life and the lives of everyone I have ever loved that in Varen’s hands it will be used for evil.

  “A new Lifestone will allow him to wage war on a scale not seen since the invasion of the Isles by the Emerald Queen’s army.” This was something of an avoidance, for only a handful of men ever knew the truth: that the Emerald Queen had been murdered and replaced by a demon in disguise. That detail would only have confused the members of the King’s court. After a pause, Pug continued,

  “With each death in its proximity, the Lifestone becomes more powerful. It doesn’t matter who dies or on which side they fight. If Varen stands near the vanguard of Kaspar’s army, he will be more powerful at the end of a battle than he was at the start. And each battle will give him more strength.

  “Ultimately he will hold in his hand a weapon that will afford him the power to rule the world, and more: the power to challenge the gods themselves.

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  “Then war will rage in heaven, and the very ground beneath your feet will be char and ash.”

  “I can scarcely believe it,” said the King.

  Pug waved his hand, and Pasko stepped forward, holding a pile of old documents. “These are from the archives at Rillanon. King Ryan permitted me to remove these. Here I give you every official document on file, including one by Prince Arutha’s own hand and several by me, detailing all I have said, or at least as much as was known at the time of the Riftwar. Also, there are reports from the Serpentwar, including a report made by Eric von Darkmoor. Each is authenticated and vouched for by the Royal Archivist.

  “Beyond what I have given you, I have told you all we know.”

  “Who will bear the cost of this?” asked the Keshian Ambassador. “Not just in gold, but in suffering and lives?”

  “Your Excellency,” Pug said, “I will make you the same offer I made to King Ryan. I will underwrite the cost of your efforts. Gold I can get. But procuring brave men willing to risk all to free the world from a coming horror no man can truly imagine, that is beyond my powers.

  “My lords, Majesty, if we do not act now, by Midwinter’s Night this world will begin a slide into darkness beyond comprehension. You must take this decision, if not for yourselves, then for your children, and the children they will someday bear.”

  Pug looked from face to face, and Tal felt the prickly sensation that he had come to associate with the use of magic. He knew that what Pug did was subtle, for anything too overt would risk a backlash. He was using a spell to calm them, to make them feel at ease with the coming decision, and to put aside their suspicion.

  The King said, “If you gentlemen will withdraw to the _______________

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  quarters set aside for you, we shall discuss this matter.”

  He looked at the pile of documents Pasko had passed along and added, “It may take us some time to read all these. I will have supper sent to your quarters, and we will resume our meeting in the morning.”

  Pug, Tal, and Pasko bowed, and the three men left the King’s hall. A page escorted them to modest quarters, and when they were alone, Tal glanced at Pasko. “Not as nice as the rooms given to me when I fought for the Championship of the Masters’ Court.”

  Pasko said, “They liked you better then. You hadn’t tried to kill anyone in the royal family then.”

  Pug said, “This is more problematic than it was in the Isles.” There came a knock at the door, and Pug waved permission for Pasko to answer. When Pasko opened the door, servants entered carrying trays of refreshments and wine. After they had left and the door was again closed, Pasko set about preparing a light meal for Pug and Tal.

  Pug said, “I think we shall convince them, but it may take a lot more
discussion.”

  Tal sighed. He was anxious to be back with his mercenaries. He trusted John Creed, and despite his desire to avenge his people, had come to trust Quint and the others. But it was still a mercenary army, and trouble could erupt at any moment. And Bardac’s Holdfast was not a good place for there to be problems among his men.

  Tal finally said to Pug, “What next?”

  “We wait,” said Pug. “Which is the hardest thing of all.”

  Pasko nodded. “I will arrange for baths, gentlemen, while you enjoy this repast, and I speak to the staff to see to an early supper.”

  Pug rose. “None for me. I will dine with my wife _______________

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  tonight, and return before dawn.” With a wave of his hand he vanished.

  Tal glanced at Pasko. “Just like Magnus. I hate it when they do that.”

  Pasko nodded.

  _______________

  NINETEEN

  ASSAULT

  The wind cut like a blade.

  Tal sat huddled under his great cloak, squeezing a ball with his right hand. Nakor had been the one who had given him the ball, made from some strange black material. It didn’t bounce well and was heavy, but it yielded just enough to give Tal’s hand serious exercise. The constant pain had dwindled to an occasional twinge or itch, or he got a throbbing dull pain afterward if he exercised too much.

  But his arm was fully restored, and he had been using his hand in sword practice for a month. At first he could barely hold a sword for more than a few minutes, and at times the pain brought him close to tears, but he perse-vered. Now he barely noticed the discomfort unless he paused to think about it. And at the moment, he was too busy thinking about what was occurring before him to think about his hand.

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  Up a narrow trail, riding single file, three thousand mercenaries made their way onto the plateau. For hours they had been riding, and once they reached the top, they spread out, making cold camp. Still miles behind the citadel, Tal would not risk a hundred campfires. Kaspar’s full attention was directed to the fleet off his harbor and the army approaching from the east along the river, but the citadel was downwind from the plateau and smoke from that many fires would travel for miles.