Flight of the Nighthawks

by Raymond E. Feist

  Flight of the Nighthawks

  Caleb knew that only Truebloods were permitted in the great palace after sundown—the only exception to this rule was foreign nobility who were housed in a special quarter. That practice had been less rigorously enforced since Diigai had come to the throne, with several key offi ces now held by non - Truebloods who resided in the Imperial home. Caleb knew that on any other night but Banapis and a few other significant holidays, the apartments behind him would be full of inhabitants going about their business.

  Caleb let out a long breath. “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

  Tad said, “What?”

  “Who’s the sneakiest?” he asked.

  “Zane,” said Tad.

  “Tad,” said Zane at the same moment.

  “I am,” said Jommy in concert with the other two.

  The other three looked at him and Jommy said, “Any of you live on the streets for a couple of years?”

  Caleb smiled. The street ran northward for as far as the eye could see, but another street intersected from the east. Opposite that intersection another large gate could be seen.

  “Can you get over there, close to that wall, and get a look at the gate without being seen from above?” he whispered.

  Jommy glanced around. Softly he said, “Shouldn’t be too hard, but who am I hiding from? I don’t see anyone.”

  “Upstairs, second window. Someone watches.”

  Jommy looked to where Caleb indicated and waited. After a moment, he said softly, “I see him.”

  “Do you think we’ve been seen?” asked Zane.

  “If we had, someone would be down here,” said Caleb. “Whoever he is isn’t watching down here, but over there.” To Jommy, he said, “So I need you to skulk around and see what he’s watching.”

  Jommy glanced around then said, “Too right. I’ll be back.” He crept close to the wall until he reached the far corner, where he vanished from sight.

  Long minutes passed, then suddenly the boy was back. “Best I can tell,” he whispered, “there’s a gate into something that might be a marshaling yard—I don’t know, ’cause I’ve not hung around this 3 1 9

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  part of the city much. If not that, a place for deliveries to the palace.

  Anyway, the gate’s closed and there’s a pair of guards there.”

  “Why would they watch that one gate?” asked Caleb quietly.

  “Don’t know, but there’s one odd thing about it.”

  “What?” asked Caleb.

  “You know how those other gates we passed all had guards, too?”

  “Yes,” said Caleb.

  “Well, all those guards were inside the gate. These two blokes were outside.”

  Caleb said, “That’s because those two aren’t trying to keep people out; they’re there to let people in.”

  Zane said, “What do we do now?”

  “Some of Chezerul’s men are going to be gathering at an inn not far from here, the Four Winds.”

  “I know that inn,” said Jommy. “It’s only half a dozen streets east of here.”

  “We were supposed to meet with them there. I think it might be better to bring them here.” He glanced at the sky. “It’ll be dark soon.” Looking at Jommy, he asked, “Anyplace around the corner we can stay out of sight?”

  “An inn, a few doors down.”

  “Let’s take a look.”

  Moving purposefully, they started up the street, again attempting to move at a speed not likely to call attention to themselves. A small party of revelers rounded the corner, obviously well on their way to total drunkenness, and shouted greetings to Caleb and the boys.

  Caleb said something vague in return and they rounded the corner.

  They reached the inn, a nondescript door with a sign of a crocodile with an open mouth hanging above it. “I expect this is used by those who work at the palace, for I can’t see merchants staying here,”

  said Caleb as he opened the door.

  He stepped into a room that was almost full of men, and in a moment, swords were being drawn. For before him stood more than a dozen men, some wearing the black garb of the Inner Legion, while others wore the uniforms of the Household Guards, the Royal Char-3 2 0

  Flight of the Nighthawks

  ioteers, or the Imperial Horse. Caleb needed only a second to deduce what was in play. “Nighthawks!” he shouted.

  Zane and Tad had their swords out an instant after.

  Jommy took one step away from the entrance, turned, and ran.

  Caleb backed out and said, “They can only come through one or two at a time.”

  Then the first swordsman struck out at him.

  Positioned high on the steps of the large building opposite the palace, Magnus used his magic to increase his vision so he could see what was taking place on the upper plaza more clearly. He had already spotted Kaspar and saw that he, Amafi, and Pasko were close to the entrance from which the Emperor’s entourage was beginning to appear.

  The imposing figure of the Master of Ceremonies entered, resplendent in his feather- festooned headdress and leopard wrap. He swung his massive ivory - encrusted staff of office easily, like a walking stick, as a dozen trumpeters and drummers followed behind. When he reached the threshold to the plaza, Household Guards ran to form a corridor to the steps leading to the throne, and the Master began to speak.

  Across the vast hall, through the open door, the procession moved slowly. Nakor and Bek could hear the Master of Ceremonies’ imposing voice cut through the noise of the crowd, but his words were not clear. At the rear of the procession a massive sedan chair was carried by a dozen bearers, and upon it sat a very old man.

  Nakor put a restraining hand on Bek’s shoulder, for behind the chair stood a dozen armed Household Guards. “We wait,” said Nakor softly.

  “For what?” asked Bek.

  “Something interesting to happen.”

  Kaspar looked from face to face in the crowd, not entirely sure what he was expecting to see. Many of those nearby he recognized, even 3 2 1

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  if he couldn’t put a name to a face, for most had been in residence during his last state visit; others were people he had met over the last month here in Kesh.

  The procession coincided with the parade on the boulevard below the palace. It was timed so that the Emperor took the throne just as the most exotic and colorful elements of the parade passed below his view, followed by a massive fireworks display. Then the revel would be in its full glory. Drunks would be passing out in the streets, fi ghts would be crushed by the constables, babies would be conceived, and tomorrow morning the populace would return to life as usual.

  Throughout the city the celebration reigned, but here next to the palace was the highest concentration of citizens, from the foremost to the humblest.

  Kaspar looked around and realized that if things got out of hand, more damage could be done to the Empire in this location than at any other time or any other place.

  The Emperor’s sedan chair was carried through the door, and Kaspar absently put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He waited.

  Caleb impaled another assassin, this one dressed as a Household Guard, when Zane shouted, “Caleb! Behind us.”

  Caleb risked a glance to his right and saw two swordsmen, dressed as Household Guardsmen, racing toward them. “They must be the two from the gate!” he shouted. “I’m busy!”

  Zane and Tad turned to face the two newcomers while Caleb barred the door.

  Zane said, “I’ll take the right!” Tad nodded, then charged at the leftmost guardsman. “Idiot!” shouted Zane, then he leapt after his foster brother.

  Tad’s impetuousness proved fortuitous, for when he assaulted the swordsman on the left, the one on the right reflexively turned to help his companion. Zane suddenly faced a man who was turned away from him, his left side exposed.

  The man realized his error a moment later, but died trying to pull back and face Ta
d.

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  Flight of the Nighthawks

  Tad then turned his attention to the man facing Zane and saw his brother was holding his own well enough. He remembered what Caleb and the other instructors at Sorcerer’s Isle had said about two swordsmen who had not trained together being more inclined to get in one another’s way.

  He circled to the left, sparing a quick glance to where Caleb held the door and saw that he was being slowly forced back down the three steps leading into the inn. The more experienced swordsman had been easily dealing with Zane, but he saw Tad moving out of the corner of his eye and tried to circle away from the approaching second opponent.

  Tad widened his circle, attempting to quickly get behind the man his foster brother faced, and the man moved away from Zane, trying to keep both boys in his line of sight.

  Zane was huffi ng from exertion and perspiration poured off his face. He was glad for the respite. The swordsman moved in a half -

  circle, trying to get his back to the wall of the building, so neither youth could move in behind him, but Zane moved too quickly on his right hand, and Tad too quickly on his left.

  Zane motioned with his head and Tad nodded and suddenly they both ran as if trying to get behind the man, both to their left. The swordsman was faced with the instant choice of turning to face one of the boys and chose to stay with Zane, turning his back for an instant to Tad, who leapt forward and slashed across the man’s exposed neck with his sword.

  Before the man had hit the stones, Tad was rushing past Zane to stand next to Caleb, who was now down on the street, facing a swarm of assassins who were coming through the door.

  Caleb shouted, “Run!”

  Zane joined his brother and stepfather and said, “No!”

  Tad shouted, “This way!” and started moving backward up the street, away from the palace.

  The three fell into line, stepping backward as fully twenty men came out of the inn. The three knew they would quickly be surrounded, but to turn now would invite being struck down from behind. The best they could do was retreat slowly up the street, moving fast enough to keep all the assassins in front of them.

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  As they reached a point two doors down from the inn, the assassins hesitated, and suddenly a figure with a thick thatch of red hair hurled by them, as Jommy appeared waving a club the size of a ham.

  He smashed it down over the protective thrust of one swordsman, crushing the man’s skull, screaming like a madman in the process.

  Then dozens of men were streaming past Caleb and the boys, and Chezarul’s agent, Donmati, was standing next to Caleb. The thin dark man asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” said Caleb as he watched the assassins being overwhelmed by Chezarul’s men. “How many of you are there?”

  “Fifty,” said Donmati.

  “See if you can take any of these alive. They are all Nighthawks.”

  Tad and Zane caught their breath, and Tad said, “Come on,” and followed after Chezarul’s men.

  Caleb nodded and charged after him, Zane at his side.

  The outnumbered Nighthawks fought viciously, and to a man died, despite attempts to capture one. Suddenly it was silent.

  Caleb motioned for the boys to come to him as well as Donmati.

  “I thought you’d run,” Caleb said to Jommy.

  “Naw,” said the affable redhead. “I just went to get some help.”

  “It’s a good thing you did,” said Tad, putting his hand on Jommy’s shoulder. “We’d have been done for in a few more minutes.”

  Jommy shrugged. “Looked like you were doing well enough when I got back.”

  “Staying alive,” said Zane.

  “There’s no City Watch,” said Donmati.

  “I didn’t expect there to be,” said Caleb. He pointed at the far gate, opposite the street where they stood. “Someone killed the guards there and put Nighthawks to guard the gate. The City Watch are either dead, as well, or they’re over keeping order at the parade.”

  He put up his sword as he caught his breath. “I need two of your men to search that inn. See if they can find anything that might prove useful. Then send another to carry word to Chezarul; we’re going into the palace.”

  “We are?” asked Tad.

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  Flight of the Nighthawks

  “Whoever is orchestrating this night’s mayhem expected this bunch”—he indicated the dead Nighthawks—“to come up to the higher levels of the palace to start the killing.” With a half - smile Caleb said, “Instead he’s going to get us.”

  Motioning for the others to follow, Caleb led the remaining swordsmen of the Conclave toward the now unguarded palace gate.

  The sky exploded and the crowd cheered and laughed. Kaspar ignored the pyrotechnics and kept his eyes searching the faces around the Emperor. He noted that the two dozen young female “attendants”

  who had surrounded the Emperor when Kaspar had played him at chess had quietly joined their master, slipping into various places that formed a circle around the dais—positions that would have gone un-noticed had Kaspar not been watching the Emperor instead of the fi reworks.

  Amafi came to stand close to him and Kaspar said, “See those courtesans standing next to the Household Guards?”

  “They are lovely, Magnifi cence.”

  “Yes, but how are they standing?”

  “Not like playthings for the Emperor, but as if they are guarding him.”

  The young women who had giggled and preened in Kaspar’s presence all now stood with forced smiles on their faces, and their eyes moved restlessly around the plaza.

  “Don’t make eye contact with any of them,” said Kaspar, smiling and nodding as if telling Amafi something funny. “Now laugh and look at the fi reworks.”

  Amafi did so and said, “They are also searching the crowd. For what, Magnifi cence?”

  “Perhaps they search for us,” whispered Kaspar close to Amafi ’s ear. “Where’s Pasko?”

  “On the other side of the plaza, as you instructed.”

  “Good. Now, if we can—”

  Before he could finish his sentence, the Emperor rose.

  Seeing Emperor Diigai standing, the Master of Ceremonies struck 3 2 5

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  the marble floor with the heel of his staff, causing it to reverberate through the throng. Years of courtly training took effect and within seconds the entire upper plaza had fallen silent.

  Those below looked up, and seeing the Emperor standing before his throne, they also fell silent. Within minutes the only sounds to be heard were coming from across the boulevard, too distant for the common folk to see what was occurring.

  “Now!” said Kaspar. “It starts now!”

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  TWENTY - TWO

  C o n f r o n t a t i o n

  Kaspar gripped Amafi ’s shoulder.

  “Be ready.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  “I don’t know,” said Kaspar, as the Emperor lifted his arms.

  “My people!” Diiagi intoned, and his voice carried surprisingly well for a man his age. Kaspar had no doubt that everyone on the two plazas below him could hear their ruler. “Today we celebrate Midsummer Day, the Festival of Banapis!”

  The crowd cheered and the Emperor paused for a moment. Kaspar grabbed the trinket Pug had given him and yanked the chain, easily breaking it from around his neck.

  He held it tightly in his left fist, while his right crossed Raymond E. Feist

  over to the pommel of his sword. He was ready to respond with either.

  Kaspar glanced to where the two royal brothers stood, amid their families. Both Sezioti and Dangai watched their grandfather with interest. The elder brother’s face held an expression of mild surprise, as the Emperor was not scheduled to make an address tonight.

  Dangai glanced around the plaza, and his eyes made contact with Kaspar, who nodded slightly. T
hen he noticed the Prince gently urging his young son to stand behind him as his hand moved to the hilt of his sword.

  “We have much reason for rejoicing in the Empire!” shouted the Emperor. “We are at peace and our harvests are plentiful. Yet, there is a reason for sorrow, as well.”

  Immediately there was a hush from the crowd, for this was not what they had expected in the middle of the year’s greatest celebration.

  “In the heart of the Empire, amid all our bounty, are those who would see all our greatness reduced to ashes! There are those among us who seek to plunge the dagger of betrayal into the heart of Kesh.

  And even now those traitors stand among us!

  “Woe, O Kesh, that a grandfather should confront such grief, for it is from those whom he loves most—from those he expects to reap the greatest joy—that this painful treason rises!”

  The old man’s bony arm shot forward and he pointed at the two princes. “There are the architects of madness, the betrayers of their line, they who would bring blood into the very house that sheltered them. They, my own blood grandsons, are the source of all the woes that betide the Empire.”

  The two brothers stood stunned. Sezioti’s expression showed he could scarcely credit his senses, and even though Dangai had been prepared for something going amiss this evening, his confusion was evident. “Now, the madness that hangs over us will end!” shouted the Emperor. “Take them!”

  Several of the Household Guards hesitated, while two moved forward instantly. Half a dozen armed men moved to intercept them, telling them to stand down. They were members of the Inner Legion, 3 2 8

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  and no matter what the Emperor ordered, they would not stand by and see the brothers taken by the Household Guard.

  There was a tense moment and many nobles edged away from the confrontation while others tried to get closer to see what was happening. The situation was rapidly reaching a breaking point and Kaspar gripped the summoning ward tightly.

  Suddenly, the girls at the foot of the dais pulled short daggers from their kilts, and the Household Guards who failed to obey their Emperor found their throats slashed from behind. Blood fountained from the necks of over a dozen men, and in a near- hysterical cry, the Emperor shouted, “Murder!”