Book two of the Riftwar Legacy
Also by Raymond E. Feist
Magician
Silverthorn
A Darkness at Sethanon
Faerie Tale
Prince of the Blood
The King’s Buccaneer
Shadow of a Dark Queen
Rise of a Merchant Prince
Rage of a Demon King
Shards of a Broken Crown
Krondor: The Betrayal
With Janny Wurts
Daughter of the Empire
Servant of the Empire
Mistress of the Empire
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
KRONDOR THE ASSASSINS.
Copyright © 1999 by Raymond E. Feist.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Raymond E. Feist asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Adobe E-Reader edition v 1. March 2001
ISBN 0-06-621315-0
1 0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
This book is dedicated to all the editors who have put up with, inspired, corrected, and aided me, to the ends of improving the work and making me look good: Adrian Zackheim, Nick Austin, Pat LoBrutto, Janna Silverstein, Malcolm Edwards, and my current guides, Jennifer Brehl and Jane Johnson.
Also, to Peter Schneider, who has done far more on my behalf than he realizes.
My deepest thanks to them all.
Raymond E. Feist
Rancho Santa Fe, CA
May 1999
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book is the outgrowth of a lot of imaginations besides my own.
I am indebted to the following people: John Cutter, Neal Halford, Bill Maxwell, Andy Ashcraft, Josh Kulp, Craig Bollan, and Erik Wycheck at Dynamix, 7th Level, and Pyro-technix, for creating interesting characters and situations for the games, Betrayal at Krondor and Return to Krondor, which provided characters, situations, and ideas that coalesced into this novel.
Also, and as usual, I stand in debt to the imagination and creative support given me by the usual suspects, also known as the Friday Nighters. Without them, Midkemia wouldn’t exist and I would have had to find another job.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE:
Departures
ONE:
Escape
TWO:
Krondor
THREE:
Reception
FOUR:
Surprises
FIVE:
Secrets
SIX:
Confusion
SEVEN:
Ambush
EIGHT:
Attack
NINE:
Decisions
TEN:
Revelation
ELEVEN:
Stealth
TWELVE:
Improvisation
THIRTEEN:
Concealment
FOURTEEN:
Murders
FIFTEEN:
Desperation
SIXTEEN:
Discovery
SEVENTEEN:
Misdirection
EIGHTEEN:
Unmasking
EPILOGUE:
Encounters
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CREDITS
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
MAP PAGE X
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PROLOGUE
DEPARTURES
m
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INES of soldiers marched along the ridge.
The baggage train had been broken into two segments, the first of which was now departing with the wounded and the dead who would be cremated with honors back in Krondor. Clouds of dust rose from the trail as wheels rolled and boots tramped toward home, the fine powder mixing with the acrid smoke from campfires as they were extinguished. The rising sun streamed through the haze, orange and pale gold, lances of color in an otherwise gray morning. In the distance birds sang, ignoring the aftermath of battle.
Arutha, Prince of Krondor and ruler of the Western Realm of the Kingdom of the Isles, sat on his horse, taking a moment to enjoy the majesty of the sunrise and the serenade of the birds as he watched his men heading home. The fighting had been blessedly short but bloody, and while casualties were lighter than anticipated, he still hated to lose even one soldier under his command. He let the beauty of the vista before him soothe his frustration and regret for a few moments.
Arutha still resembled the youthful man who had come to 2
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the throne of Krondor ten years before, though lines around his eyes and a small scattering of gray through his otherwise black hair revealed the toll rulership had taken on him. For those who knew him well, he was still much the same man, a competent administrator, military genius, and fiercely duty-bound man who would surrender his own life without question to save the lowest soldier under his command.
His gaze went from wagon to wagon, as if somehow willing himself to see the wounded men inside, as if he could communicate to them his sense of gratitude for a job well done. Those closest to Arutha knew he paid a silent price, pain kept within, for each injury done a man who served Krondor and the Kingdom.
Arutha pushed aside his regrets and considered the victory.
The enemy had been in full retreat for two days, a relatively small force of dark elves. A much larger force had been prevented from reaching the Dimwood when a rift machine had been destroyed by Arutha’s two squires, James and Locklear. It had cost the life of a magician named Patrus, but his sacrifice had allowed the invaders to fall prey to their own internal conflicts. Delekhan, the would-be conqueror, had died beside Gorath, a moredhel chieftain who had proven as honorable and worthy a being as Arutha had ever met, while they struggled to seize control of the Lifestone. Arutha cursed the existence of that mysterious and ancient artifact under the abandoned city of Sethanon, and wondered if its mystery would ever be understood, its danger removed, in his lifetime.
Delekhan’s son Moraeulf had died from a dagger thrust home by Narab, once an ally of Delekhan. As agreed to by Narab, the retreating moredhel weren’t being harassed by Kingdom forces as long as they were heading straight north. Orders 3
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had been dispatched to allow the moredhel safe passage home as long as they kept moving.
The Kingdom forces in the Dimwood were now dispersing to their various garrisons, the majority returning to the west, and some heading back north to the border baronies. They would start moving later in the morning. The previously secret garrison north of Sethanon would be moved to another location and reprovisioned.
Sunlight began to bathe Arutha as the morning mist burned off, leaving only the smoke and dust to cloud the air. The day was already growing hot, and the cold of the previous winter was fading from memory. Arutha kept his distress deep inside as he considered the latest assault upon the tranquillity of his Kingdom.
Arutha had taken the Tsurani magicians at face value after the end of the Riftwar. For nearly ten years they had been free to come and go between worlds, via several magic rifts. And now he felt a profound sense of betrayal
. He fully understood the rationale that had driven Makala, a Tsurani Great One, to attempt to seize the Lifestone at Sethanon, the belief that the Kingdom possessed a great weapon of destruction, some engine of power that would give predominance in war to whoever held it. Had he been in Makala’s place, with the same suspicions, he might have acted in the same way. But even so, he could not trust the Tsurani to be loose in the Kingdom, and that meant an end to almost a decade of trade and exchange. Arutha pushed aside worry as to how he would effect the changes he must make, but he knew that eventually he would have to sit down with his advisors and fashion a plan that would ensure future security for the Kingdom. And he knew almost no one would be pleased at the changes he would make.
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Arutha glanced to his right and saw two very fatigued young men sitting astride their horses. He permitted himself one of his infrequent smiles, a bare upturning of the sides of his mouth, which served to soften the often somber expression on his still-youthful face. ‘‘Tired, gentlemen?’’ he asked.
James, senior squire to the Prince, returned his ruler’s gaze from eyes surrounded by dark circles. James, and his companion Squire Locklear, had ridden a punishing ride, abetted by magic herbs which had kept them awake and alert for days in the saddle. The after-effects of the prolonged use of the draught was to unleash all the pent-up fatigue and body-ache on the young men at once. Both had slept through the night, upon cushions in Arutha’s tent, but had awakened tired and bone-weary. Summoning up his usual brazen wit, James said, ‘‘No, sire, we always look like this when we wake. Usually you don’t see us until after our morning coffee.’’
Arutha laughed. ‘‘I see none of your charms have faded, squire.’’
A short man with dark hair and beard walked over to where the Prince and his companions sat astride their horses.
‘‘Good morning, Highness,’’ said Pug, as he bowed.
Arutha returned a polite nod and said, ‘‘Pug, do you return to Krondor with us?’’
Pug’s expression revealed concern. ‘‘Not straightaway, Highness. There are matters I must investigate at Stardock. The activities of the Tsurani Great Ones involved with this last attempt at Sethanon cause me great concern. I need to ensure that they were the only magicians involved, and that those who still reside at my Academy are free of any guilt.’’
Arutha looked at the retreating wagons again as he said, 5
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‘‘We do need to talk about the role played by the Tsurani in your Academy, Pug. But not here.’’
Pug nodded agreement. Even though everyone within earshot was privy to the secret of the Lifestone which sat beneath the city of Sethanon, it was wise to talk only in private. And Pug also knew that Arutha had grave concerns about the betrayal by the Tsurani magician Makala which had led to this last battle between the Prince’s army and an invading army of moredhel warriors. He expected that Arutha would insist on far more stringent controls over who and what came through the rift—the magic gateway—between Midkemia and the Tsurani homeworld of Kelewan.
‘‘We will, Highness. First, I must see to the safety of Katala and Gamina.’’
‘‘I understand your concerns,’’ said the Prince. Pug’s daughter Gamina had been abducted and transported by magic to a distant world in order to lure him away from Midkemia while the Tsurani magician attempted to seize the Lifestone.
Pug said, ‘‘I must make sure that I am never again made vulnerable because of a family member.’’ He looked knowingly at the Prince. ‘‘There’s nothing I can do about William, but I can ensure that Gamina and Katala are safe at Stardock.’’
‘‘William is a soldier, so by the nature of his craft he is at risk.’’ Then Arutha smiled at Pug. ‘‘But he’s as safe as a soldier can be, surrounded by six companies of the Royal Krondorian Household Guard. Anyone attempting to blackmail you through William will find him difficult to reach.’’
Pug’s expression showed he didn’t approve. ‘‘He could have been so much more.’’ His look silently implored Arutha to do something. ‘‘He still can. It’s not too late for him to return to Stardock with me.’’
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Arutha regarded the magician. He understood Pug’s frustration and his parental desire to see his son back with his family.
But his tone left no confusion as to his willingness to intercede on Pug’s behalf. ‘‘I know you two have had your differences about his choice, Pug, but I’ll leave it for you to work out at your own leisure. As I told you when you first objected to William coming into my service, he’s a royal cousin by adoption and a free man of age, so there was no reason for me to refuse his request.’’ Before Pug could voice another objection, he raised his hand. ‘‘Not even as a favor to you.’’ His tone softened.
‘‘Besides, he’s got the makings of a better than average soldier.
Quite a knack, actually, according to my swordmaster.’’ Arutha changed the subject. ‘‘Did Owyn return home?’’ Owyn Belefote, youngest son of the Baron of Timons, had proven a valuable ally to James and Locklear in the recent struggle.
‘‘At first light. He said he must mend fences with his father.’’
Arutha motioned toward Locklear, though he kept his eyes on Pug. ‘‘I have something for you.’’ When Locklear failed to respond to the gesture, Arutha shifted his gaze to Locklear.
‘‘ Squire, the document?’’
Locklear had been on the verge of falling asleep in the saddle but he snapped to attention as the Prince’s voice penetrated his muzzy thoughts. He moved his horse to where Pug stood and handed a parchment down to him.
Arutha said, ‘‘Over my signature and seal, this names you the final authority over all issues of magic as they affect the Western Realm.’’ He smiled slightly. ‘‘I should have no trouble convincing His Majesty to ratify this for the entire Kingdom.
You’ve had our ear in this area for years, Pug, but this gives you authority if you ever find yourself having to deal with 7
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another noble or King’s officer without me at your shoulder. It names you official magician of the court of Krondor.’’
‘‘My thanks, Highness,’’ said Pug. He seemed about to speak, but hesitated.
Arutha cocked his head to one side. ‘‘There’s a but here, isn’t there?’’
‘‘But I need remain at Stardock with my family. There’s much work to be done and my attention there precludes me from serving in Krondor, Arutha.’’
Arutha sighed slightly. ‘‘Understood. But that still leaves me without a magician in court, if you’re unwilling to take residency in the palace.’’
‘‘I could send Kulgan back to nag at you,’’ said Pug with a smile.
‘‘No, my former teacher is too quick to forget rank and scold me in front of my court. It’s bad for morale.’’
‘‘Whose?’’ asked Jimmy under his breath.
Arutha didn’t look at the squire, but said, ‘‘Mine, of course.’’
To Pug he said, ‘‘Seriously, the betrayal of Makala shows me the wisdom my father employed by having an advisor on matters of magic close to hand. Kulgan’s earned his retirement. So, if not you or young Owyn, who then?’’
Pug thought for a moment and said, ‘‘I have one student who might be just the person to advise you in the future. There is one problem.’’
‘‘What would that be?’’ asked Arutha.
‘‘She’s Keshian.’’
Arutha said, ‘‘That’s two problems.’’
Put smiled. ‘‘Knowing your sister and wife, I would have thought a woman’s advice wouldn’t be alien to His Highness.’’
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Arutha nodded. ‘‘It’s not. But many in my court would find it . . . difficult.’’
Pug said, ‘‘I�
�ve never noticed you to be overly concerned with the opinions of others when your mind was set, Arutha.’’
The Prince said, ‘‘Times change, Pug. And men get older.’’
He was silent for a minute as he watched another contingent of his army break camp and start to move out. Then he turned to face Pug, one eyebrow raised in question. ‘‘But Keshian?’’
‘‘No one will accuse her of allying herself with this or that faction in court,’’ said Pug.
Arutha chuckled. ‘‘I hope you’re joking.’’
‘‘No, I’m not. She’s unusually gifted despite her youth; she’s cultured and educated, reads and writes several languages, and has a remarkable grasp of magic, which is exactly what you need in an advisor. Most importantly, she’s the only one among my students who can understand the consequences of magic in a political context, as she’s had court training in Kesh. She’s from the Jal-Pur and understands how things stand in the west, as well.’’
Arutha seemed to consider this for a long moment, then said, ‘‘Come to Krondor when you can and tell me more. I’m not saying I will not finally agree to your choice, but I need more convincing before I do.’’ Arutha smiled his half-smile and turned his horse around. ‘‘Still, the expression on the faces of the nobles in court when a woman from Kesh walks in might be worth whatever risk she brings.’’
‘‘I will vouch for her; I give my word on it,’’ said Pug.
Arutha looked back over his shoulder. ‘‘You’re very serious about this, aren’t you?’’
‘‘Very. Jazhara is someone I would entrust my family’s lives to. She is only a few years older than William and has been 9
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with us at Stardock for almost seven years, so I’ve known her a third of her life. She can be trusted.’’
Arutha said, ‘‘That counts for much. A great deal actually.
So, come to Krondor when you will, and we will discuss this at length.’’ He bade Pug good-bye, then turned to James and Locklear. ‘‘Gentlemen, we have a long ride ahead.’’
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