The Riftwar Saga

by Raymond E. Feist

  With a nod, Arutha said, ‘Yes. He may be a little older and a bit taller, but I know this young rogue. He’s Jimmy the Hand, already a legend among brigands and cutpurses in the city. This is the boy thief who helped Anita and me flee the city.’

  Laurie studied the boy, then laughed. ‘I never saw him clearly, for the warehouse was dark when Kasumi and I were taken from Krondor by the Mockers, but by my teeth, it’s the same lad. “There’s a party at Mother’s.”’

  Jimmy grinned. ‘“And a good time will be had by all.”’

  Arutha said, ‘So you know each other as well?’

  ‘I told you once that when Kasumi and I were carrying the peace message from the Tsurani Emperor to King Rodric, there was a boy who had guided us from the warehouse to the city gate and led away the guards while we escaped Krondor. This was that boy, and I never could remember his name.’

  Arutha put up his sword, as did the others. ‘Well then, Jimmy, while I am glad to see you again, there is this matter of climbing walls into my palace.’

  Jimmy shrugged. ‘I thought it possible you’d be willing to see an old acquaintance, Highness, but I doubted I could convince the captain’s guards to send word.’

  Gardan smiled at the brash answer and signalled the guard to release his hold upon the boy’s arm. ‘Probably you’re right, Jack-a-rags.’

  Jimmy suddenly became aware he looked a poor sight to these men, used to the well-dressed and-groomed inhabitants of the palace. From his raggedly cut hair down to his dirty bare feet he looked every inch the beggar boy. Then Jimmy saw the humour in Gardan’s eyes.

  ‘Don’t let his appearance mislead you, Gardan. He’s far more capable than his years indicate.’ To Jimmy, Arutha said, ‘You throw some discredit upon Gardan’s guards by entering in this fashion. I expect you’ve reason to seek me out?’

  ‘Yes, Highness. Business most serious and urgent.’

  Arutha nodded. ‘Well then, what is this most serious and urgent business?’

  ‘Someone has placed a price on your head.’

  Gardan’s face registered shock. Laurie said, ‘What-how?’

  ‘What leads you to think so?’ asked Arutha.

  ‘Because someone has already tried to collect.”

  Besides Arutha, Laurie, and Gardan, two others listened to the boy’s story in the Prince’s council chambers. Earl Volney of Landreth had formerly been the assistant to the Principate Chancellor, Lord Dulanic, the Duke of Krondor who disappeared during the viceroyalty of Guy du Bas-Tyra. At Volney’s side sat Father Nathan, a priest of Sung the White, Goddess of the One Path, once one of Prince Erland’s chief advisers and there at Gardan’s request. Arutha did not know these two men, but during the months of his absence Gardan had come to trust their judgement, and that opinion counted for much with Arutha. Gardan had been virtually acting Knight-Marshal of Krondor, just as Volney had been acting Chancellor, while Arutha had been gone.

  Both men were stocky, but while Volney seemed one who had never known labour, simply a man always stout, Nathan looked like a wrestler now going to fat. Under that soft appearance strength still waited. Neither spoke until Jimmy had finished recounting his two fights of the night before.

  Volney studied the boy thief for a moment, looking at him from under carefully combed, bushy eyebrows. ‘Utterly fantastic. I simply don’t wish to believe such a plot can exist.’

  Arutha had sat with his hands forming a tent before his face, the fingers restlessly flexing. ‘I’d not be the first prince targeted for an assassin’s blade, Earl Volney.’ He said to Gardan, ‘Double the guard at once, but quietly, with no explanation given. I do not want rumours flying about the palace. Within two weeks we’ll have every noble in the Kingdom worth mention in these halls, as well as my brother.’

  Volney said, ‘Perhaps you should warn His Majesty?’

  ‘No,’ said Arutha flatly. ‘Lyam will be travelling with a full company of his Royal Household Guard. Have a detachment of Krondorian Lancers meet them at Malac’s Cross, but no word that it is other than a formal honour company. If a hundred soldiers can’t protect him while he rides, he can’t be protected.

  ‘No, our problem lies here in Krondor. We have no choice in our options.’

  ‘I’m not sure I follow, Highness,’ said Father Nathan.

  Laurie threw his eyes heavenward while Jimmy grinned. Arutha smiled grimly. ‘I think our two streetwise companions have a clear understanding of what must be done.’ Turning to face Jimmy and Laurie, Arutha said, ‘We must catch a Nighthawk.’

  Arutha sat quietly while Volney paced the dining hall. Laurie, who had seen years enough of hunger to take food when it was available, ate while the stout Earl of Landreth stalked the hall. After watching Volney make another circuit before the table, Arutha, in weary tones, said, ‘My lord Earl, must you pace so?’

  The Earl, who was caught up in his own thoughts, stopped abruptly. He bowed towards Arutha slightly, but his expression was one of irritation. ‘Highness, I’m sorry to have disturbed you’ – his tone showed he wasn’t in the least bit sorry, and Laurie smiled behind a joint of beef – ‘but to trust that thief is sheer idiocy.’

  Arutha’s eyes widened and he looked at Laurie, who returned his amazed expression. Laurie said, ‘My dear Earl, you should cease being so circumspect. Come, just speak your mind to the Prince. Be direct, man!’

  Volney flushed as he realized his gaffe. ‘I beg your pardon, I …’ He seemed genuinely embarrassed.

  Arutha smiled his crooked half-smile. ‘Pardon granted, Volney, but only for the rudeness.’ He studied Volney for a quiet moment, then added, ‘I find the candour rather refreshing. Say on.’

  ‘Highness,’ Volney said firmly, ‘for all we know, this boy is but a part of some confidence game designed to capture you, or to destroy you, as he claims others intend.’

  ‘And what would you have me do?’

  Volney paused and shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t know, Highness, but sending the boy alone to gather intelligence is … I don’t know.’

  Arutha said, ‘Laurie, tell my friend and counsellor the Earl that all is well.’

  Gulping down a mouthful of fine wine, Laurie said, ‘All is well, Earl.’ When Arutha threw the minstrel a black look, Laurie added, ‘In truth, sir, all possible is being done. I know the ways of the city as well as any man can who is not one of the Upright Man’s own. Jimmy’s a Mocker. He may discover a lead to the Nighthawks where a dozen spies will find none.’

  ‘Remember,’ said Arutha, ‘I met Guy’s captain of secret police, Jocko Radburn, and he was a cunning, ruthless man who stopped at nothing to try to recapture Anita. The Mockers proved his match.’

  Volney seemed to sag a little, then indicated he required the Prince’s permission to sit. Arutha waved him to a chair, and as he sat he said, ‘Perhaps you are right, singer. It is just that I have no means to answer this threat. The thought of assassins running loose gives me little ease.’

  Arutha leaned across the table. ‘Less than myself? Remember, Volney, it appeared I was the intended target.’

  Laurie nodded. ‘It couldn’t have been me they were after.’

  ‘Perhaps a music lover?’ countered Arutha dryly.

  Volney sighed. ‘I am sorry if I am acting poorly in all this. I have wished upon more than one occasion to be done with this business of administering the Principality.’

  ‘Nonsense, Volney,’ said Arutha. ‘You’ve done a capital job here. When Lyam insisted I make the eastern tour with him, I objected on the grounds that the Western Realm would suffer under any hand but my own – which was because of the effects of Bas-Tyra’s rule and no comment upon your abilities. But I am pleased to see this was not the case. I doubt that any could have done better in running the daily affairs of the realm than you have, Earl.’

  ‘I thank His Highness,’ said Volney, somewhat less agitated for the compliment.

  ‘In fact, I was going to ask you to stay on. With Dulanic mysteriously gone
, we’ve no Duke of Krondor to act on behalf of the city. Lyam cannot announce the office vacant – without dishonouring Dulanic’s memory by stripping him of the title – for another two years, but we can all assume he is dead at Guy’s or Radburn’s hands. So for the time being, I think we’ll plan on your acting the part of Chancellor.’

  Volney seemed less than pleased with this news, but took the pronouncement with good grace. He simply said, ‘I thank His Highness for the trust.’

  Further conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Gardan, Father Nathan and Jimmy. Nathan’s bull neck bulged as he half carried Jimmy to a chair. The boy’s face was drained of colour and he was sweating. Ignoring formality, Arutha pointed to a chair and the priest deposited Jimmy there.

  ‘What is this?’ asked Arutha.

  Gardan half smiled, half looked disapproving. ‘This young bravo has been running around since last night with a nasty cut in his side. He bandaged it himself and botched the job.’

  ‘It had begun to fester,’ added Nathan, ‘so I was forced to clean and dress it. I insisted on treating it before we came to see you, as the boy was turning feverish. It takes no magic to keep a wound from putrefaction, but every street boy thinks he is a chirurgeon. So the wound sours.’ He looked down at Jimmy. ‘He’s a little pale from the lancing, but he’ll be fine in a few hours-as long as he doesn’t reopen the wound,’ he added pointedly to Jimmy.

  Jimmy looked abashed. ‘Sorry to put you to the trouble, father, but under other circumstances, I would have had the wound tended.’

  Arutha looked at the boy thief. ‘What have you discovered?’

  ‘This business of catching assassins may be even more difficult than we thought, Highness. There is a way to make contact, but it is varied and roundabout.’ Arutha nodded for him to continue. ‘I had to cadge a lot with the street people, but here is what I have gleaned. Should you wish to employ the services of the Guild of Death, you must take yourself away to the Temple of Lims-Kragma.’ Nathan made a sign of protection at mention of the Death Goddess. ‘A devotion is said and a votive offering placed in the urn marked for such, but with the gold sewn into a parchment, giving your name. You will be contacted at their convenience within one day’s time. You name the victim; they name the price. You pay or you don’t. If you do, they tell you when and where to drop the gold. If you don’t, they vanish and you can’t reach them again.’

  ‘Simple,’ said Laurie. ‘They dictate when and where, so laying a trap will not be easy.’

  ‘Impossible, I should think,’ said Gardan.

  ‘Nothing is impossible,’ said Arutha, his expression showing he was deep in thought.

  After a long moment Laurie said, ‘I have it!’

  Arutha and the others looked at the singer. ‘Jimmy, you said they will contact whoever leaves the gold within the day.’ Jimmy nodded. ‘Then what we need to do is have whoever leaves the gold stay in one place. A place we control.’

  Arutha said, ‘A simple enough idea, once it’s thought of, Laurie. But where?’

  Jimmy said, ‘There are a few places we might take over for a time, Highness, but those who own them are unreliable.’

  ‘I know a place,’ said Laurie, ‘if friend Jimmy the Hand is willing to say devotions, so the Nighthawks will be less likely to think it a trap.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Jimmy. ‘Things are funny in Krondor. If I’m under suspicion, we might never get another opportunity.’ He reminded them of Jack’s attack, and of his unknown companion with the crossbow. ‘It may have been a grudge thing; I’ve known men to get crazy over something even more trivial than a nickname, but if it wasn’t … If Jack was somehow involved with that assassin …’

  ‘Then,’ said Laurie, ‘the Nighthawks have turned an officer of the Mockers to their cause.’

  Jimmy looked upset, as he suddenly dropped his mask of bravado. ‘That thought has troubled me as much as the thought of someone sticking his Highness with a crossbow bolt. I’ve been neglecting my oath to the Mockers. I should have told all last night, and certainly I must now.’ He seemed ready to rise.

  Volney placed a firm hand upon Jimmy’s shoulder. ‘Presumptuous boy! Are you saying some league of cutthroats merits even a moment’s consideration in light of the danger to your Prince and possibly your King?’

  Jimmy seemed on the verge of a retort when Arutha said, ‘I think that’s exactly what the boy said, Volney. He has given oath.’

  Laurie quickly stepped over to where the boy sat. Moving Volney to one side, he leaned down so his face was level with Jimmy’s. ‘You have your concerns, we know, lad, but things seem to be moving rapidly. If the Mockers have been infiltrated, then speaking too soon could make those who have been placed there cover tracks. If we can get one of these Nighthawks …’ He left the thought unfinished.

  Jimmy nodded, if the Upright Man will only follow your logic, I may survive, singer. I come close to past the time when I may cover my actions with a facile story. Soon I will be at an accounting. Very well, I’ll take a note to the Drawer of Nets’ temple. And I will play no mummery when I ask her to make a place for me should it be my time.’

  ‘And,’ said Laurie, ‘I must be off to see an old friend about the loan of an inn.’

  ‘Good,’ said Arutha. ‘We will spring the snare tomorrow.’

  While Volney, Nathan, and Gardan watched, Laurie and Jimmy departed, deep in conversation as they made plans. Arutha followed their departure as well, his dark eyes masking the quietly burning rage he felt. After so many years of strife during the Riftwar he had returned to Krondor hoping for a long, peaceful life with Anita. Now someone dared to threaten that peaceful life. And that someone would pay dearly.

  The Rainbow Parrot Inn was quiet. The storm windows had been closed against a sudden squall off the Bitter Sea, so the taproom lay blanketed in haze, blue smoke from the fireplace and a dozen patron’s pipes. To any casual observer the inn looked much as it would have on other rainy nights. The owner, Lucas, and his two sons stood behind the long bar, one of them occasionally moving through the door to the kitchen to get meals and carry them to the tables. In the corner near the fireplace, opposite the stairs to the second floor, a blond minstrel sang softly of a sailor who is far from home.

  Close inspection would have revealed that the men at the tables barely touched their ale. While rough in appearance, they didn’t have the air of workers from the docks and sailors fresh in from sea voyages. They all possessed a certain hard-eyed look, and their scars were earned in past battles rather than tavern brawls. All were members of Gardan’s company of Household Guard, some of the most seasoned veterans of the Armies of the West during the Riftwar. In the kitchen five new cooks and apprentices worked. Upstairs, in the room closest to the head of the stairway, Arutha, Gardan, and five soldiers waited patiently. In total, Arutha had placed twenty-four men in the inn. Arutha’s men were the only ones present, as the last local had left when the storm commenced.

  In the corner farthest from the door, Jimmy the Hand waited. Something had troubled him all day, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. But he knew one thing: if he himself had entered this room this night, his experience-bred caution would have warned him away. He hoped the Nighthawks’ agent wasn’t as perceptive. Something here just wasn’t right.

  Jimmy sat back and absently nibbled at the cheese, pondering what was askew. It was an hour after sundown, and still no sign of anyone who might be from the Nighthawks. Jimmy had come straight from the temple, making sure he had been seen by several beggars who knew him well. If any in Krondor wished to find him, word of his whereabouts could be purchased easily and cheaply.

  The front door opened and two men came in from the rain, shaking water from their cloaks. Both appeared to be fighting men, perhaps bravos who had earned a fair purse of silver protecting some merchant’s caravans. They wore similar attire: leather armour, calf-length boots, broadswords at their sides, and shields slung over their backs under the protective
cloaks.

  The taller fellow, with a grey streak through his dark hair, ordered ales. The other, a thin blond man, looked about the room. Something in the way his eyes narrowed alarmed Jimmy: he also sensed something different in the inn. He spoke softly to his companion. The man with the grey lock nodded, then took the ales presented by the barman. Paying with coppers, the two men moved to the only available table, the one next to Jimmy’s.

  The man with the grey lock turned towards Jimmy and said, ‘Lad, is this inn always so sombre?’ Jimmy then realized what the problem had been all day. In their waiting, the guards had fallen into the soldier’s habit of speaking softly. The room was free of the usual common-room din.

  Jimmy held his forefinger before his lips and whispered, it is the singer.’ The man turned his head and listened to Laurie for a moment. Laurie was a gifted performer and was in good voice despite his long day’s work. When he finished, Jimmy banged his ale jack hard upon the table and shouted, ‘Ha! Minstrel, more, more!’ as he tossed a silver coin towards the dais upon which Laurie sat. His outburst was followed a moment later by similar shouting and cheering as the others realized the need of some display. Several other coins were tossed. When Laurie struck up another tune, lively and bawdy, a sound not unlike the normal buzz of conversation returned to the taproom.

  The two strangers settled back into their chairs and listened, occasionally speaking to each other. They visibly relaxed as the mood in the room shifted to resemble what they had expected. Jimmy sat for a while, watching the two men at the next table. Something about these two was out of place, something that nagged at him as had the false note in the common room only moments before.

  The door opened again and another man entered. He looked around the room as he shook water from his hooded great cloak, but he didn’t remove the voluminous covering or lower the cowl. He spied Jimmy and crossed to his table. Without waiting for invitation, he pulled out a chair and sat. In hushed tones he said, ‘Have you a name?’

  Jimmy nodded and leaned forward as if to speak. As he did so, four facts suddenly struck him. The men at the next table, despite their casual appearance, had swords and shields close at hand, needing only an instant to bring them to the ready. They didn’t drink like mercenaries fresh into town after a long caravan; in fact, their drinks were nearly untouched. The man opposite Jimmy had one hand hidden under his cloak, as he had since entering. But most revealing of all, all three men wore large black rings on their left hands, with a hawk device carved in them, one similar to the talisman taken from Laughing Jack’s companion. Jimmy’s mind worked furiously, for he had seen such rings before and understood their use.