The Riftwar Saga

by Raymond E. Feist

  The soldier said, ‘Where will you be, sir?’

  Gardan sent the man off with a shove. ‘Tell him to find us.’

  As they hurried along, Gardan gathered nearly a dozen soldiers to him. When Arutha reached the door to his quarters, he hesitated a moment, as if fearful to open the door.

  Pushing open the door, he discovered Anita sitting next to the cribs wherein their sons slept. She looked up and at once an expression of alarm crossed her features. Coming to her husband, she said, ‘What is it?’

  Arutha closed the door behind him, motioning for Carline and the others to wait without. ‘Nothing, yet.’ He paused a moment. ‘I want you to take the babies and visit your mother.’

  Anita said, ‘She would welcome that,’ but her tone left no doubt she understood there was more here than she was being told. ‘Her illness is past, though she still doesn’t feel up to travel. It will be a treat for her.’ Then she fixed Arutha with a questioning look. ‘And we shall be more easily protected in her small estate than here.’

  Arutha knew better than to attempt to hide anything from Anita. ‘Yes. We again have Nighthawks to worry about.’

  Anita came to her husband and rested her head against his chest. The last assassination attempt had nearly cost her life. ‘I have no fear for myself, but the babies…’

  ‘You leave tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll make ready.’

  Arutha kissed her and moved toward the door. ‘I’ll return shortly. Jimmy advises I keep in quarters until the palace is free of strangers. Good advice, but I must remain on public view a while longer. The Nighthawks think us ignorant of their return. We cannot let them think otherwise, yet.’

  Finding humour amid the terror, Anita said, ‘Jimmy still seeks to be First Adviser to the Prince?’

  Arutha smiled at that. ‘He’s not spoken of being named Duke of Krondor for nearly a year. Sometimes I think he’d be better suited than many others likely to come to that office.’

  Arutha opened the door and found Gardan, Jimmy, Laurie, and Carline waiting. Others had been moved away by a company of the Royal Household Guard. Next to Gardan, Captain Valdis waited. Arutha told him, ‘I want a full company of lancers ready to ride in the morning, Captain. The Princess and the Princes will be travelling to the Princess Mother’s estates. Guard them well.’

  Captain Valdis saluted and turned to issue orders. To Gardan, Arutha said, ‘Begin to slowly place men back at post throughout the palace and have every possible hiding place searched. Should any inquire, say Her Highness is feeling poorly and I am staying with her for a while. I’ll return to the great hall shortly.’ Gardan nodded and left. Then Arutha added to Jimmy, ‘I have an errand for you.’

  Jimmy said, ‘I’ll leave at once.’

  Arutha said, ‘What do you think you’re going to do?’

  ‘Go to the docks,’ said the boy with a grim smile.

  Arutha nodded, again both pleased and surprised at the boy’s grasp of things. ‘Yes. If you must, search all night. But as soon as you can, find Trevor Hull and bring him here.’

  • Chapter Two •

  Discovery

  Jimmy searched the room.

  The Fiddler Crab Inn was a haunt of many who wished a safe harbour from questions and prying eyes. As the sun began to set the room was crowded with locals, so Jimmy was at once the source of curiosity, for his clothing marked him out of place. A few native to the city knew him by sight – after the Poor Quarter, the docks had been a second home to him – but no small number of those in the inn marked him as a rich boy out on the evening, perhaps one with some gold to be shaken loose.

  One such man, a sailor by the look of him, drunken and belligerent, barred Jimmy’s passage through the room. ‘Here and now, such a fine young gentleman as yourself’ll be having a spare coin or two to buy a drink in celebration of the little Princes, wouldn’t you think?’ He rested his hand upon his belt dagger.

  Jimmy adroitly sidestepped the man and was half past him, saying, ‘No, I wouldn’t.’ The man reached for Jimmy’s shoulder and tried to halt him. Jimmy came around in a fluid movement, and the man found the point of a dirk levelled at his throat. ‘I said I don’t have any extra gold.’

  The man backed away, and several onlookers laughed. But others began to circle the squire. Jimmy knew at once he had made an error. He’d had no time to scrounge up clothing to fit his present environment, but he could have made a show of turning over a half-empty purse to the man. Still, once begun, such a confrontation could not be aborted. A moment before, Jimmy’s purse had been at risk, now it was his life.

  Jimmy backed up, seeking to place his back to a wall. His expression was hard and revealed no hint of fear, and a few who surrounded him suddenly understood that here was someone who knew his way about the docks. Softly he said, ‘I’m looking for Trevor Hull.’

  At once the men stopped advancing upon the boy. One turned and indicated with his head a back door. Jimmy hurried toward it and pulled aside the hanging cloth cover.

  A group of men sat gambling in a large, smoke-filled room. From the pile of betting markers on the table, it was for high stakes. The game was lin-lan, common to the southern Kingdom and northern Kesh. A colourful display of cards was unfolded and players bet and dealt in turn, determining odds and payoffs by which cards were turned. Among the gamblers were two men, one with a scar from forehead to chin, running through a milk-white right eye, and the other a bald, pock-faced man.

  Aaron Cook, the bald man and first mate on the customs cutter Royal Raven, looked up as Jimmy pushed toward the table. He nudged the other man, who sat regarding his cards with disgust, throwing them down. When he saw the youth, the man with the white eye smiled then, as he took note of Jimmy’s expression, the smile faded. Jimmy spoke loudly, over the noise in the room. ‘Your old friend Arthur wants you.’

  Trevor Hull, onetime pirate and smuggler, knew at once who Jimmy meant. Arthur was the name Arutha had used when Hull’s smugglers and the Mockers had joined forces to get Arutha and Anita out of Krondor while Guy du Bas-Tyra’s secret police had been combing the city for them. After the Riftwar, Arutha had pardoned Hull and his crew for past crimes and had enlisted them in the Royal Customs Service.

  Hull and Cook stood as one and left the table. One of the other gamblers, a heavyset merchant of some means by his dress, spoke around a pipe. ‘Where are you off to? The hand’s not played out.’

  Hull, his shock of grey hair fanning out around his head like a nimbus, shouted, ‘It is for me. Hell, I only have a run in blue and a pair of four counts to play,’ and he reached back and turned over all his cards.

  Jimmy winced as men around the table began to curse and throw in their cards. In the common room, as they headed for the door, Jimmy observed, ‘You’re a mean man, Hull.’

  The old smuggler turned customs officer laughed an evil laugh. ‘That fat fool was ahead, and on my gold. I just wanted to take some wind out of his sails.’ The nature of the game was such that as soon as he revealed his hand, play was disrupted. The only fair thing would be to leave the bets out and redeal the entire hand, a prospect not appreciated by those with good cards left to play.

  Outside of the inn, they hurried along the streets, past celebrants as the festival began to pick up while afternoon shadows lengthened.

  Arutha stood looking down at the maps on the table. The maps were from his archives, provided by the royal architect, and showed the streets of Krondor in detail. Another, showing the sewers, had been used before in the last raid against the Nighthawks. For the past ten minutes Trevor Hull had been carefully studying them all. Hull had headed the most prosperous gang of smugglers in Krondor before taking service with Arutha, and the sewers and back alleys had been his means of bringing contraband into the city.

  Hull conferred with Cook, then the older man rubbed his chin. His finger pointed at a spot on the map where a dozen tunnels came together in a near-maze. ‘If the Nighthawks were living down in the sewers, the U
pright Man would have spotted them before they could have dug in. But it may be they’re using the tunnels as a way in and out’ – his finger moved to another spot on the map – ‘here.’ His finger lingered over a portion of the docks resembling a crescent along the bay. Halfway along the curve the docks ended and the warehouse district began, but also nestled against the water was a small section of the Poor Quarter, like a pie-shaped wedge driven between the more prosperous trading areas.

  ‘Fish Town,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘Fish Town?’ echoed Arutha.

  ‘It’s the poorest section of the Poor Quarter,’ said Cook.

  Hull nodded. ‘It’s called Fish Town, Divers’ Town, Dockside, and other things as well. Used to be a fishing village a long time ago. As the city grew northward along the bay, it was surrounded by businesses, but there’re still some fisher families living there. Mostly lobstermen and mussel rakers who work the bay, or clam diggers who work the beaches north of the city. But it’s also located near the tanners, dyers, and other foul-smelling sections of Krondor, so no one who can afford better lives there.’

  Jimmy said, ‘Alvarny said the Upright Man thought they were hiding in a place that smells. So he thinks of Fish Town as well.’ Jimmy shook his head as he considered the map. ‘If the Nighthawks are hiding in Fish Town, finding them will be difficult. Even the Mockers don’t control Fish Town as firmly as they do the rest of the Poor Quarter and the docks. There’s a lot of places to get lost in there.’

  Hull agreed. ‘We used to run in and out near there, through a tunnel to a landing once used to carry cargo into the harbour from some merchant’s basement.’ Arutha studied the map and nodded: he knew where that landing lay. ‘We used a number of different locations, moving things in and out, varying where we kept them from time to time.’ He looked up at the Prince. ‘Your first problem is the sewers. There are maybe a dozen conduits leading up from the docks to Fish Town. You’ll have to block each one. One of them is so big you’ll need to block it with a crew in a boat.’

  Aaron Cook said, ‘The trouble is we don’t know where in Fish Town they’re hiding.’

  ‘If that’s where they are,’ said Arutha.

  Cook said, ‘I doubt if the Upright Man would even mention it had he not a good notion that they’re down there somewhere.’

  Hull nodded agreement. ‘That’s a fact. I can’t think of any place else in the city they could be hiding. The Upright Man would’ve pinned down the location as soon as a Mocker caught a glimpse of the first Nighthawk. Even though the thieves use a lot of the sewers to skulk about in, there are parts they don’t pass through much. And Fish Town is worse. The older fisher families are independent and tough, almost clannish. If someone took up residence in one of the old shacks near the docks, kept to himself … Even the Mockers only get silence from the Fish Town folk when they ask questions. Should the Nighthawks have infiltrated slowly, no one but the locals might have a hint. It’s a regular warren there, little streets all twisted about.’ He shook his head. ‘This part of the map’s useless. Half the buildings shown here are burned down. Shacks and hovels built anywhere there’s room. It’s a mess in there.’ He looked at the Prince. ‘Another name for Fish Town is the Maze.’

  Jimmy said, ‘Trevor’s right. I’ve been in Fish Town as much as anyone in the Mockers, and that’s not much. There’s nothing worth stealing in there. But he’s wrong about one thing. The biggest problem isn’t blocking escape routes. It’s locating the Nighthawks. There are a lot of honest folk living in that part of town and you just can’t ride in and kill everyone. We’ve got to find their hideout.’ He considered. ‘From what I know of the Nighthawks, they’ll want some place that’s first of all defensible, then easy to flee. They’ll probably be here.’ His finger pointed to a spot on the map.

  Trevor Hull said, ‘It’s a possibility. That building is nestled against those two walls, so they’ve only two fronts to cover. And there’s a network of tunnels below the streets there, and those tunnels are all small and difficult to navigate unless you’ve been there before. Yes, it’s a likely place.’

  Jimmy looked at Arutha. ‘I’d better go change.’

  Arutha said, ‘I don’t like the need, but you’re the best equipped to scout.’

  Cook looked at Hull, who nodded slightly. ‘I could come along.’

  Jimmy shook his head. ‘You know parts of the sewers better than I, Aaron, but I can slip in and out without making the water ripple. You haven’t the knack. And there’s no possible way you can get into Fish Town unnoticed, even on a noisy night like this. I’ll be safer if I go alone.’

  Arutha said, ‘Shouldn’t you wait?’

  Jimmy shook his head. ‘If I can locate their warren before they know they’ve been discovered, we may be able to clean them out before they know what hit them. People do funny things sometimes, even assassins. It being a festival day, their sentries will probably not expect someone nosing around. And, with the city in celebration, there will be lots of noises filtering down from the streets. Odd and out-of-place sounds will be less likely to alert anyone below the buildings. And if I have to poke around above ground, a strange poor boy in Fish Town isn’t as likely to be noticed this night as much as other nights. But I need to go at once.’

  ‘You know best,’ said Arutha. ‘But they’ll react should they discover someone’s seeking them out. One glimpse of you and they’ll come straight after me.’

  Jimmy noticed Arutha didn’t seem troubled by that fact alone. It seemed to Jimmy the Prince wouldn’t mind an open confrontation. No, Jimmy knew what bothered him was his concern for the safety of others. ‘That goes without saying. But chances are excellent they’re coming after you tonight anyway. The palace is crawling with strangers.’ Jimmy looked out the window at the late afternoon sunset. ‘It’s almost seven hours after noon. If I were planning an attack on you, I’d wait about another two or three hours, just when the celebration is at its height. Performers and guests will be going in and out of the gates. Everyone will be half-drunk, tired from a daylong celebration, and feeling very relaxed. But I wouldn’t wait much after that or your guards might notice a late arriving guest entering the grounds. If you stay alert you should be safe enough while I snoop around. I’ll report back as soon as I have a hint.’

  Arutha indicated permission for Jimmy to withdraw. Quickly Trevor Hull and his first mate followed, leaving a troubled, seething Prince alone with his thoughts. Arutha sat back, balled fist held before his mouth as his eyes stared off into nothing.

  He had faced the minions of Murmandamus near the Black Lake, Moraelin, but the final contest was yet to come. Arutha cursed himself for becoming complacent over the last year. When he had first returned with Silverthorn, the key to saving Anita from the effects of the Nighthawks’ poison, he had been nearly ready to return at once to the north. But the affairs of court, his own marriage, the trip to Rillanon to attend his brother’s wedding to Queen Magda, then Lord Caldric’s funeral, the birth of his sons, all these had come and gone without his attending to the business north of the Kingdom. Beyond the great ranges lay the Northlands. There lay the seat of his enemy’s power. There Murmandamus marshalled his forces. And from that seat far to the north he was reaching down again to touch the life of the Prince of Krondor, the Lord of the West, the man fated by prophecy to be his undoing, the Bane of Darkness. Should he live. And again Arutha found himself struggling within the confines of his own demesne, the battle carried to his own door. Striking his palm with his fist, Arutha voiced a low, harsh curse. To himself and whatever gods listened, he vowed that when this business in Krondor was finished, he, Arutha conDoin, would carry the struggle northward to Murmandamus.

  The darkness hid a thousand treasures amid a million pieces of worthless garbage. The waters in the sewers flowed slowly, and often large clumps of debris would gather in a jam called a tof. The tofsmen who picked over such floating refuse earned their living gleaning valuables lost into the sewers. They also kept the ref
use flowing by breaking up the jams of garbage that threatened to back up the sewers. Little of this concerned Jimmy, save that a tofsman was standing less than twenty feet away.

  The young squire had dressed all in black, save for his old, comfortable boots. He had even purloined an executioner’s black hood from the torture chamber. Beneath the black he wore more simple garb, needed to blend into the Poor Quarter. The tofsman looked directly at the boy several times, but for all his peering, Jimmy did not exist.

  For the better part of half an hour, Jimmy had stood motionless in the deep shadows of an intersection, while the old tofsman picked over the smelly mess passing by. Jimmy hoped this wasn’t the man’s chosen location to work, otherwise he could be there for hours. Jimmy even more fervently hoped the tofsman was real and not a disguised Nighthawk lookout.

  Finally the man wandered off, and Jimmy relaxed, though he did not move until the tofsman had had ample time to vanish down a side tunnel. Then, with stealth bordering on the unnatural, Jimmy crept along the tunnel toward the area below the heart of Fish Town.

  Down a series of tunnels he travelled silently. Even as he stepped into water, he managed to disturb it only slightly. The gifts of nature – lightning-fast reflexes, astonishing coordination, and the ability to make decisions, to react nearly instantaneously – had been augmented by training from the Mockers and forged in the harshest furnace: the daily life of a working thief. Jimmy made each move as if his life depended upon remaining undetected, for it did.

  Down the dark conduits of the sewers he journeyed, his senses extended into the darkness. He knew how to ignore the faint sounds coming down from the streets above and how the slight echoes of rippling water rebounding from the stonework should sound; the slightest variation would warn of anyone lurking out of view. The noisome air of the sewer masked any potentially warning odours, but the air was almost motionless, so he would have a betraying hint of movement close by should anyone suddenly come at him.