Exile's Return: Conclave of Shadows: Book Three

by Raymond E. Feist

  Kaspar laughed. “A word of advice; find someone who speaks a language called Quegan, for it is closest to your speech anyone here knows, and learn a bit of the local tongue, else the merchants of my homeland will send you home with nothing to show.”

  “Advice noted,” said Captain Berganda.

  Kaspar settled in, impatiently watching as they drew near the harbor mouth. He couldn’t believe the emotions that rose up within him, for until this moment he had no idea how much he had missed his homeland and how much he loved it.

  Still, he realized he was returning as an outcast and an outlaw. If he couldn’t avoid being recognized, he faced the possibility of summary execution.

  Kaspar went over what he knew of docking procedures and cautioned the Captain that things might be different since he was home. He neglected to mention to Berganda the reason for his absence or the fact he really knew little of docking procedures because as Duke of Olasko, whenever he sailed into the harbor, everyone got out of his way.

  It was almost sunset when they entered the harbor. An assistant pilot in a customs boat waved the Western Princess over to a mooring buoy and by hand signals got them to heave to and drop anchor. The young man in the boat shouted up, “Anyone speak Olaskon?”

  This was Kaspar’s first risk of being recognized, but he had to take it, for the Captain would want to know why he wasn’t willing to translate. He shouted back, “I do.”

  “Stay here until morning. A customs officer will come aboard at first light. If anyone comes ashore, you’ll all be hanged as smugglers!”

  Kaspar shouted back, “We understand!” He translated for Berganda.

  The Captain laughed. “Is he serious?”

  “He’s an earnest young officer in the duchy’s service, so of course he’s serious. But the threat, however, isn’t. Smuggling mainly takes place in the islands we passed to the south. Anyone bold enough to try to smuggle right in the main harbor probably deserves to get away with it. No, they’re just trying to ensure we don’t come ashore, get drunk and start a brawl, and end up in jail before you can sell your cargo so they can fine you.”

  “If you say so, Kaspar,” the Captain said, “However, I think once you’re ashore, I’ll have the boys stay here until morning.”

  “What will you do when the sailor who speaks Olaskon is missed?”

  The Captain laughed again. “Nothing. We’ll work out a way to communicate, and if anyone here speaks that Quegan language you say is related to ours, we’ll get it across. That earnest young customs officer was obviously mistaken about which ship berthing this night had someone aboard who spoke your language. Must be a lot of foreign ships come into this harbor every day.”

  Kaspar laughed. “Play dumb and they’ll buy it. Now, lower a boat as soon as it’s dark and I’ll tell your lads where to take me.” He reached into his tunic. “Here’s the other two hundred, and a hundred again. Just to make sure that if your brother-in-law decides to become a sailor, you’ll have enough gold to make your wives a little less furious.”

  “Thanks for that,” said the Captain. He passed the word that a boat was going over the side away from the docks after darkness fell.

  Kaspar returned to his cabin and waited.

  The inn was out of the way and quiet. It was the sort of place Kaspar had never once set foot in throughout his entire life in this city. It was a favorite of dockworkers, stevedores, teamsters, porters, and other rough men. It was the sort of place where men would look the other way.

  Kaspar and the Talnoy had entered the inn two days earlier and had taken a room at the back, on the lower floor.

  Kaspar was keeping a low profile, sniffing around, and trying to make contact with someone from Opardum’s underworld. He had an idea about getting a message to the palace, to his sister, but he was still reeling from the news he had received earlier that day. He had just finished his midday meal when a pair of city constables entered the inn.

  They had walked through the room, glancing here and there, and after a few minutes they had left. Kaspar was struck by one thing, and motioned the serving girl over.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “It’s been a while since I was last in Opardum, but what was that crest those constables were wearing on their shoulders? I don’t recognize it.”

  “It’s a new coat-of-arms, sir. We have a new duke.”

  Feeling a chill, Kaspar played ignorant. “Oh, really? I’ve been at sea. What happened?”

  She laughed. “You must have been on the other side of the world.”

  “Might as well have been,” he said.

  “Well, we had a war, and old Duke Kaspar was run out. I hear they banished him to some hellish place, but you know how gossip is. He’s probably rotting at the bottom of his own dungeons. Duke Varian is in charge here now.”

  “Duke Varian?” said Kaspar with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Had Leso Varen managed somehow to turn things to his own advantage at the very end?

  “Ya, nice enough bloke, come over from Roldem. Married the old Duke’s sister, and now they’re expecting a baby.”

  “Duke Varian Rodoski?”

  “Ya, that’s him. Seems a fair man for a noble.”

  After she left, Kaspar had almost laughed aloud. Half in relief, for despite his past attempts to kill Rodoski, Kaspar knew him to be a good man. He had been a loving husband before his wife had died, and he was a devoted father. It was a damned good state marriage as far as Kaspar could tell. It would bring stability to the region and make it nearly impossible for the vultures to try to pick at Olasko’s bones.

  However, hours later the loss of his duchy was still nettling him. He sat back. It wasn’t his duchy. It was his home, true, but he no longer ruled here, nor would he reclaim his throne. What had begun as a mad plan for revenge had long since become a desperate race against an implacable menace that would destroy this city, his nation, his sister and her unborn child. No, Kaspar had to let old emotions go. Revenge was no longer viable…or even desirable. In fairness, had his and Tal Hawkins’ positions been reversed, he would never have forgiven Tal. He would have killed him.

  Kaspar stood up to return to the room and saw a man in the corner looking at him. He had noticed the slender man when he had entered the inn earlier that afternoon, and had been struck by something vaguely familiar about him, but the man’s features had remained hidden under a large hat and in the corner he was shrouded in darkness. A few times Kaspar had cast a glance his way, and every time the man seemed to be caught up in his own thoughts as he contemplated the contents of his ale mug. This time, however, the man’s eyes locked with Kaspar’s for the briefest of instances, before he glanced away and looked down, hunching over.

  Kaspar made his way toward his room, then at the last moment he turned and in two strides crossed the gap between them. The other man was fast, as Kaspar had known he would be. Very fast for someone having to stand up and draw a weapon.

  Kaspar barely parried the dagger’s blow with his own dagger, then used his advantage in size and strength to push the man off balance. He went over the back of his chair and slammed his head against the wall.

  Men were moving away, for brawls were common in this inn, and no one got involved until they knew who was fighting whom, especially when weapons were involved.

  By the time the barman had come over, his cudgel striking the palm of his meaty hand, Kaspar had the man pinned to the wall, his dagger under Kaspar’s boot, while Kaspar’s blade was at the man’s throat.

  “Hello, Amafi,” said Kaspar. “How would you like to arrange things so that neither Talwin Hawkins or I cut your throat?”

  The former Quegan assassin, for more than a year body-servant to Talwin Hawkins before he had betrayed him and became a fugitive, said, “Magnificence! I barely recognized you.”

  With a grin, Kaspar whispered so the others in the room couldn’t overhear. “But recognize me you did, and what were you about to do, barter my head for your freedom?”

 
“No, my lord, I never would have done such a thing,” whispered Amafi in return. “I am, like yourself, a man fallen on hard times. For nearly a year I’ve lived hand to mouth, forced to menial labor to survive. I was afraid you’d recognize me. I was but waiting for you to retire so I could slip out unnoticed.”

  Kaspar stood up, and the barman sensed the fight was over, turned and went back to his station. Kaspar put out his hand and pulled the older man to his feet. “You’re a liar and a traitor and I don’t believe for an instant that as soon as I went to my room you wouldn’t have been off to the citadel to barter my life for your freedom. However, it happens I have a use for you, one which will benefit us both in keeping our heads on our shoulders. Come, this is not the place for the two of us to swap stories.”

  “Agreed.”

  Kaspar went to the bar and purchased a bottle of wine and two cups. He motioned for the assassin to proceed down the hall ahead of him. “Forgive me, but it’s going to be a while before I willingly turn my back on you.”

  “You are a wise man, Magnificence.”

  When they reached the room, Amafi opened the door when Kaspar indicated and took one step in, then froze. “It’s all right,” said Kaspar. “That’s my…servant.”

  Amafi entered the room. “He…doesn’t move.”

  “He’s very good at standing very quietly,” said Kaspar. “Sit on the bed.” He moved to the window and sat on the sill. There was only a small table in the room and a very dirty washbasin and a pitcher of tepid water. Kaspar poured a cup of wine and handed it to Amafi, then poured one for himself. “I’ve got a long tale to tell, Amafi, but I’d like to hear yours first.”

  “There is little mystery. While I was in the service of Talwin Hawkins, I ensured I knew a quick way out wherever we were. It’s an old habit, and while I knew no details, it was clear to me that my master was involved in something beyond my understanding, which always means trouble, eventually. While my master was exploring the citadel for a means to defeat you when you betrayed him…”

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Sir. But then, I think he expected it. I judged him to be a man unable to break an oath, so he was counting on you betraying him first when he took service with you.”

  Kaspar laughed his barking laugh. “So, had I not sold him out to set up Rodoski’s murder, he might still be in my service and I might still be Duke of Olasko?”

  “Possibly, Magnificence. Who am I to know such things? In any event, when it was obvious to me that the citadel was going to fall, I merely waited and stripped a dead Keshian soldier of his uniform. I left the citadel with the victorious troops, and I speak fair Keshian, so no one noticed. I was just another dog soldier with blood on his tunic. There was enough looting and drunkenness on the way out to the harbor that it was simple to vanish into an empty building, lie low for a few days, then emerge. I’ve been attempting to leave Opardum ever since you vanished, but unfortunately, I lack means.”

  “A clever fellow like you? I would have thought it easy enough for you to get passage.”

  Amafi sighed. “Magnificence, I am past fifty years of age, and by trade I am an assassin. In my youth, you would never have made it to the table, let alone pushed me back before I could kill you.

  “But now I am reduced to this low estate, and the only other trade to which I may lay claim is body-servant to nobility, and how might I gain employment when the only reference I have is a man who would most happily kill me?”

  Kaspar laughed. “Well, I have a proposition. As I said in the commons, I may have a way to keep Hawkins from cutting either of our throats, and more, get you safely away from here to somewhere you might retire.”

  “I have some small savings in Salvador. If I could get there…?” He shrugged.

  “Help me get to Tal Hawkins and I’ll get you to Salvador. And there’ll be more in it than whatever pitiful savings you might have. I’ll set you up for life.”

  Amafi looked at Kaspar with a jaundiced eye. “That wouldn’t take much if my life is measured in days.”

  Kaspar laughed. “You are a rogue, Amafi, and I should have your throat cut on general principle, but while I hardly trust you to be loyal, I do trust you to have a strong self-interest.”

  “So, you may not harbor any ill will because I deserted you in your hour of need—you are, after all, a wise and understanding man—”

  Kaspar laughed. “Never, in my forty-odd years has anyone called me that.”

  Amafi shrugged. “In any event, you may forgive me my slight indiscretion, but my former master may not. After all, it was I who betrayed him to you.”

  “And I obliterated his nation, yet he forgave me. I think he’ll be inclined to let you get out of the city rather than hang you once you’ve got us together. He’ll have far more important things on his mind.”

  “Well, then, I am your man again, Magnificence. It has been a hard year, and from the look of you, for both of us. It took me nearly ten minutes to recognize you.”

  “Really?”

  “You don’t know how much you’ve changed? You must see yourself in a mirror, Magnificence. You will hardly recognize yourself.”

  “I could use a bath and new clothing,” said Kaspar.

  “Then instruct me as to what I must do, and then while I do it, go to the bathhouse tomorrow and then to a tailor. If I can find my former master, you should look your best when you meet.”

  “What do you mean ‘find him’? I thought he would be here in the city, running things.”

  “Hardly. He left your former Captain Quentin Havrevulen, along with Counts Stolinko and Visniya to form a triumvirate to rule in your sister’s name until they sorted things out. Which was accomplished when the King of Roldem named Duke Rodoski as the new Duke of Olasko and married him to your sister.”

  “The King of Roldem? And Kesh and Isles let that pass?”

  “They had to: Hawkins made Olasko a province of Aranor, and both of them vassals to Roldem.”

  Kaspar sat back. “So we’re part of Roldem now?”

  “Yes, and so far it seems to be working. At least taxes haven’t gone up, and no foreign armies march through the streets, so the populace is content.”

  “I underestimated Hawkins on more than one front. But where did he go?”

  “Rumor is that he found a girl of his people and went back into the mountains. I will need a little gold to get information.”

  “You’ll have it. And while I improve my appearance, I expect you to spend it wisely. Find out where my old enemy has gone. It is imperative I find him.”

  “Yes, Magnificence, though I find it odd you’re so anxious to find your former vassal and have no wish to kill him.”

  “Oh, I would love to kill him,” said Kaspar. “I haven’t changed that much, but there are far more important things than revenge afoot right now.”

  “Then I will do what I can.”

  Kaspar said, “That is all one can ask. Now, you sleep on the floor, and don’t try anything crafty—my motionless servant over there is quite capable of pulling your arms out of their sockets if you attempt to kill me while I sleep.”

  Amafi glanced at the Talnoy and nodded. “It is a thing of baleful aspect, and while it may be nothing more than a suit of armor you have in the corner for reasons I can’t begin to imagine, I would never think of doing such a thing, Magnificence. At least not when there is no profit in it.”

  Kaspar laughed, then lay down on the bed. “Blow out the candle and get some sleep. We have much to do tomorrow.”

  Amafi had been right. Few would recognize him. He regarded himself in the mirror, a fine piece of silver-backed polished glass. He had possessed one this fine up in the citadel, but he hadn’t seen a good looking-glass since…He laughed.

  The tailor said, “Sir?”

  “Nothing, just thinking what old friends might say if they saw me now.”

  “They would say you’re a man of unusually good judgment and rare taste, sir.”

&
nbsp; He had gone to a bathhouse and had got as clean as he had been in a year. He then had a barber come and trim his hair to a respectable length, though shorter than he had worn it before his exile. His beard he had not trimmed as before, when he used to keep his upper lip shaved. It was thinned out and cut close, but he kept the moustache and wore the beard fuller along the jaw.

  But his concerns over being recognized were considerably lessened. He hadn’t been this thin since he was a youth. In the span of a well-lived lifetime, he had put on a certain bulk, though he prided himself on being fit. Now he was lean. He could see hollows in his cheeks and when he took off his old shirt and allowed the tailor to fit him with a new one, he could see his ribs.

  Rather than wait for days, he had paid the tailor to make him a suitable ensemble in one day, though it meant standing for fittings repeatedly all afternoon. It didn’t matter: he had nowhere to go and nothing else to do, so when it came time for him to confront those in power in Olasko these days, he might as well be presentable.

  “That will do for the moment, sir,” said the tailor, a man named Swan. “If you care to wait, I should have this finished within the hour.”

  He had sent for a boot-maker who had measured his foot and was now returning. “I have several that may do until I can finish the boots you ordered, sir.”

  Kaspar had simply introduced himself as a gentleman from Sulth, which was true. He didn’t think either merchant cared that they had never heard of the city of Sulth as long as the gold marked the touchstone correctly. It would probably be wise to find a moneychanger and exchange some of his Novindus gold for the local coin.

  While he was trying on boots and selecting a pair, Amafi returned. Kaspar paid the boot-maker and arranged to have the custom-made boots delivered to the inn where he was staying; then he took Amafi into a corner of the tailor’s shop. “What have you found?”