A sudden shift in the air, and Jimmy froze. Something had changed, and the boy immediately shrank down into the sheltering darkness of a low, overhanging brickwork. From a short distance ahead, he heard the faint grind of leather on metal and knew someone was descending a ladder from the street above. A slight disturbance in the water caused the boy to tense. Someone had stepped into the sewer and was walking in his direction, someone who moved almost as silently as he.
Jimmy hunkered down, as small as he could make himself in the dark, and watched. In the gloom, black against black, he could half-see, half-sense a figure moving toward him. Then, from behind, light showed and Jimmy could see the approaching man. He was slender, wearing a cloak, and armed. He turned and whispered harshly, ‘Cover that damn lantern.’
But in that instant, Jimmy could see a face well known to him. The man in the sewer was Arutha – or at least resembled him enough to fool any but his closest intimates.
Jimmy held his breath, for the bogus Prince was passing only a few feet away. Whoever followed shut the lantern, and darkness enveloped the tunnel, hiding Jimmy from discovery again. Then he heard the second man pass. Listening for sounds indicating others, Jimmy waited until he felt certain no one else was coming. He quickly, but quietly, rose from his hiding spot and went to where the two men had emerged from the gloom. Three tunnels intersected, and he would have to spend time determining which had provided entrance to the sewers for the false Prince and his companion. Jimmy weighed his options briefly, then placed the need to follow the pair above the need to discover the entrance to the sewer employed.
Jimmy knew this part of the sewers as well as any in Krondor, but if he fell too far behind he would lose them. He slipped through the dark, listening at each intersection for the sounds that told him where his quarry moved.
Through the murky passages under the city the boy hurried, slowly overtaking the two men. Once he caught a glimpse of light, as if the shuttered lantern had been uncovered slightly so the travellers might gain their bearings. Jimmy followed after it.
Then Jimmy rounded a corner, and a sudden movement in the air gave warning. He dodged and felt something pass close to where his head had been, accompanied by a grunt of exertion. He pulled his dirk and turned toward the sound of breathing, holding his own breath. Fighting in the dark was an exercise in controlled terror. Each man could die from an overactive imagination as he sought a clue to the exact position of his opponent. Sounds, illusory movement seen from the corner of the eye, a feeling about where the foe stood, all could cause a miscue that would give away a location, bringing sudden death. Both men stood frozen for a long moment.
Jimmy sensed a scurrying and instantly recognized the presence of a rat, a large one by the sound, moving away from trouble. He aborted a lunge in that direction before it was begun and waited. His opponent also heard the rat, but lashed at it, striking the stone. The ring of steel on stone was all Jimmy needed and he thrust with his dirk, feeling the point strike deep. The man stiffened, then with a low sigh collapsed into the water. The combat had taken three blows, from the first at Jimmy in the dark to the one that ended it.
Jimmy pulled his dirk free and listened. There was no sign of the man’s companion. The youngster swore silently. While he was free of another attack, it had also allowed the other man freedom to escape. Jimmy sensed a source of heat nearby and almost burned his hand on the metal lantern. Uncovering the shutter, he examined his foe. The man was a stranger, but Jimmy knew he was a Nighthawk. No other possible explanation could account for his presence in the sewers with an exact double of the Prince. Jimmy checked the body and found the ebon hawk worn next to the skin and the black poison ring. There was no longer any doubt. The Nighthawks were back. Jimmy steeled himself and quickly cut open the man’s chest, removing the heart and casting it into the sewer. With the Nighthawks one never knew which were likely to rise again and serve their master, so it was best to take no chances.
Jimmy abandoned the lantern, left the body to float toward the sea with the other garbage, and began his return to the palace. He hurried, regretting the time lost in dealing with the corpse. Splashing noisily toward the nearest exit back to the surface, Jimmy was confident the false Prince was long gone. As he rounded a corner, a sudden alarm sounded in his head, for an echo had rung false. Dodging, he was a moment late. He avoided a sword blade slash but took a blow to the head from the hilt. He was knocked hard against the wall, his head striking brick. Pitching forward, he landed in the centre of the sewer channel, going under muck-covered water. Half-dazed, he managed to roll over, getting his face above the scum. Through a grey haze, he could hear someone splashing in the water a short distance away. In a strange detached way he knew someone was looking for him. But the lantern lay back where the first man had fallen, and in the dark the boy drifted away from the man who vainly sought to find him and end his life.
Hands shook at the boy, dragging him from an odd half-dream. He had thought it strange he should be floating in the darkness, for he had to meet with the Prince of Krondor. But he couldn’t find his good boots and Master of Ceremonies deLacy would never allow him into the great hall in his old ones.
Opening his eyes, Jimmy discovered a leathery face hovering over his own. A toothless smile greeted his return to full consciousness. ‘Well, well,’ said the old man with a chuckle. ‘You’re back with us again, you are. I’ve seen all manner of things floating in the sewers over the years. Never thought I’d see the royal hangman tossed into the scumways, though.’ He continued to chuckle, his face a grotesque dancing mask in the guttering candlelight.
Jimmy couldn’t make sense of the old man’s words, until he remembered the hood he had worn. The old man must have removed it. ‘Who…?’
‘Tolly I’m called, young Jimmy the Hand.’ He chuckled. ‘Must have come to some difficulty to find yourself in such a fix.’
‘How long?’
‘Ten, fifteen minutes. I heard the splashing about and went to see what’s to-do. Found you floating. Thought you dead. So I pulled you away to see if you carried gold. That other one was fit to bust he couldn’t find you.’ Again the chuckle. ‘He’d have found you certain if you’d been left to float. But I hauled you to this little tunnel I uses for a hidey and I’d lit no light till he was on his way. Found this,’ he said, returning Jimmy’s pouch.
‘Keep it. You’ve saved my life, and more. Where’s the nearest way to the street?’
The man helped Jimmy to his feet. ‘You will find stairs to the basement of Teech’s Tannery. It’s abandoned. It’s on the Avenue of Smells.’ Jimmy nodded. The street was Collington’s Road, but all in the Poor Quarter called it the Avenue of Smells because of the tanneries, slaughterhouses, and dyers located there.
Tolly said, ‘You’re gone from the guild, Jimmy, but word’s come down you might be poking about here and there, so I’ll tell you the password tonight is “finch”. I don’t know who those blokes fighting you were, but I’ve seen an odd crew down here the last three days. I guess things move apace.’
Jimmy realized this simple tofsman was trusting to the higher-ups in the Mockers to deal with the intruders in his domain. ‘Yes, they will be dealt with in a matter of days.’ Jimmy considered. ‘Look, there’s more than thirty gold in that pouch. Take word to Alvarny the Quick. Tell him matters are as suspected and my new master will act at once, I’m certain. Then take the gold and have some fun for a few days.’
The man fixed Jimmy with a squint, grinning his toothless grin. ‘Stay clear is what you’re saying? Well then, I might spend a day or two drinking up your gold. That enough?’
Jimmy said, ‘Yes, two days will see this business over.’ As he moved toward the tunnel that would lead to his exit to the streets, he added, ‘One way or the other.’ He looked about in the gloom and discovered he had been pulled back toward the place where he had first encountered the two Nighthawks. Pointing toward the intersection, he asked, ‘Is there a metal ladder nearby?’
‘Three that can be used.’ He indicated their locations.
‘Thanks again, Tolly. Now, quickly, carry my message to Alvarny.’
The old tofsman waded away into a large tunnel, and Jimmy began his inspection of the nearest ladder. It was rusty and dangerous, as was the second, but the third was newly repaired and firmly anchored in the stones. Jimmy quickly climbed to the top and examined the trapdoor above.
It was wood and therefore part of a building floor. Jimmy considered his position relative to Teech’s Tannery. If his sense of direction wasn’t off, he was under the building he had thought likely to be the Nighthawks’ hideout. He listened at the trap for a long minute, hearing nothing.
Gently he pushed upward, peeking through the tiny crack made by the rising door. Directly before his nose was a pair of boots, crossed at the ankles. Jimmy froze. When the feet didn’t move, he pushed the trap an inch higher. The feet in the boots belonged to a nasty-looking customer who was sound asleep, a half-empty bottle clutched tightly to his chest. From the cloying odour in the room, Jimmy knew the man had been drinking paga – a potent brew, heavily spiced and laced with a perfume-sweet mild narcotic, imported from Kesh. Jimmy chanced a quick glance about. Aside from the sleeping sentry the room was empty, but faintly heard voices came from the single door in the nearby wall.
Jimmy drew a silent breath and noiselessly emerged from the trap, avoiding touching the sleeping guard. He moved with a single step to the door and listened. The voices were faint. A tiny crack in the wooden door allowed Jimmy to peek through.
He could see only the back of one man and the face of another. From the manner in which they were speaking, it was clear there were others in the room as well, and from the sound of movement, some number of them, perhaps a dozen. Jimmy glanced about and nodded to himself. This was the headquarters of the Nighthawks. And these men were Nighthawks, beyond doubt. Even if he hadn’t seen the ebon hawk on the man he had killed, those in the next room were nothing like the common folk of Fish Town.
Jimmy wished he could better scout the building, for there were at least a half-dozen other rooms, but the restless sounds of the sleeping man alerted the former thief that time was quickly running out. The false Prince would be inside the Palace soon, and while Jimmy could run down the streets whereas the false Arutha had to slog through the sewers, it would be a close thing who would be at the palace first.
Jimmy quietly left the door and moved back to the trap. He gently lowered it overhead. As he reached a point halfway between the trap and the sewer, he heard voices from directly overhead. ‘Matthew!’
Jimmy’s heart leaped as the other voice said, ‘What!’
‘If you’ve drunk yourself asleep, I’ll have your eyes for dinner.’
The other voice answered irritably, ‘I only closed my eyes for a minute, just as you walked in, and don’t threaten me or the crows will have your liver.’
Jimmy heard the trap being lifted, and without hesitation swung himself around to the side of the ladder. He hung in midair, only one hand and boot on the small rungs as he flattened himself against the wall, barely holding on to scant hand- and footholds in the rough stones. He trusted his black clothing in the gloom – and the fact the eyes of those above would take time to adjust to the darkness of the sewer – to hide him. A light was shone from above and Jimmy averted his face, the only part of him not black, and held his breath. For a long, terror-filled moment he hung in space, arm and leg burning with fatigue with the strain of holding himself motionless. Not daring to look upward, he could only imagine what the two Nighthawks above might be doing. Even at this moment they could be drawing weapons. A crossbow could be aiming at his skull and in an instant he could be dead, his life blotted out without warning. He heard feet scuffling about and laboured breathing above where he hung and then a voice said, ‘See? Nothing. Now, leave it, or you’ll be floating with the other garbage.’
Jimmy almost flinched when the trap was slammed close above him. He silently counted to ten, then quickly scampered down the ladder to the water and moved off.
With the bickering voices fading behind, Jimmy headed towards Teech’s Tannery, and the way back to the palace.
The night was half over, but the celebration was still in full swing. Jimmy hurried through the palace, ignoring the startled people he passed. This apparition in black was a most uncommon sight. He was battered, an angry lump decorating his visage, and he reeked of the sewer. Twice Jimmy asked the guards about the Prince’s whereabouts and was informed the Prince was en route to his private quarters.
Jimmy passed a startled pair of familiar faces as Gardan and Roald the mercenary stood speaking. The Knight-Marshal of Krondor looked tired from a long day yet unfinished and Laurie’s boyhood friend looked half-drunk. Since returning from Moraelin, Roald had been a guest in the palace, though he still refused Gardan’s constant offer of a place in Arutha’s guard. Jimmy said, ‘You’d better come along.’ Both took the boy at his word and fell into step. Jimmy said, ‘You won’t believe what they’re up to this time.’ Neither man had to be told who ‘they’ were. Gardan had just informed Roald of the Upright Man’s warning. And both men had faced the Nighthawks and Black Slayers of Murmandamus at Arutha’s side before.
Rounding the corner, the three found Arutha about to open the door to his quarters. The Prince halted, waiting for the three to come close, an expression of open curiosity on his face.
Gardan said, ‘Highness, Jimmy’s discovered something.’
Arutha said, ‘Come along. I have a few things I must attend to at once, so you’ll have to be brief.’
The Prince pushed open the door and led them through the antechamber to his private council room. As he reached for the door, it opened.
Roald’s dark eyes widened. Before them stood another Arutha. The Prince in the door looked at them, saying, ‘What…?’ Suddenly both Aruthas were drawing weapons. Roald and Gardan hesitated; what their eyes told them was impossible. Jimmy watched as the two Princes engaged each other in combat, the ‘second’ Arutha, the one who had come from within, leaping back into the council chamber, gaining room to fight. Gardan shouted for guards and in a moment a full dozen were approaching the door.
Jimmy watched closely. The resemblance was uncanny. He knew Arutha as well as he knew anyone else in the Palace, but while the two men fought a furious duel, he couldn’t tell them apart. The impostor even fought with the same skill with the blade as the Prince. Gardan said, ‘Seize them both.’
Jimmy shouted, ‘Wait! If you grab the wrong one first, the impostor may kill him.’ Gardan instantly countermanded his own order.
The two combatants thrust and parried, moving about the room. Each man’s face was set in a mask of grim determination. Then Jimmy raced across the room, no hesitation marking his lunge for one of the men. Striking out with his dirk, Jimmy knocked him backward. Guards flooded into the room, seizing the other combatant as Gardan ordered. The Knight-Marshal was uncertain what Jimmy was doing, but he was taking no chances. Both men would be held until the matter was sorted out.
Jimmy grappled on the floor with one of the Aruthas, who struck out with a backhand blow, stunning Jimmy and knocking him aside. That Arutha began to rise to his feet, then halted as Roald levelled his sword point at the man’s throat. The man on the floor shouted, ‘The boy’s gone mad. Guards! Seize him!’ Then, as he rose, he clutched at his side. His hand came away covered in blood. The man looked pale and began to wobble. He appeared on the verge of fainting. The other Arutha stood quietly, enduring the restraining hands of the guards.
Jimmy shook his head, clearing it from the effects of the second serious blow of the day. Seeing the condition of the wounded man, Jimmy yelled, ‘’Ware a ring!’
As the boy spoke, the wounded man placed his hand before his mouth, and as Roald and a guard seized him, he slumped down, unconscious. Roald said, ‘His royal signet is false. It’s a poison ring such as the others wore.’
The guards rel
eased the real Arutha who said, ‘Did he use it?’
Gardan inspected the ring. ‘No, he passed out from his wound.’
Roald said, ‘The likeness is unbelievable. Jimmy, how’d you know?’
‘I saw him in the sewers.’
‘But how did you know he was the impostor?’ asked Gardan.
‘The boots. They’re covered in muck.’
Gardan looked at Arutha’s polished black boots and the impostor’s mud-encrusted pair. Arutha said, ‘It’s a good thing I didn’t take a walk through Anita’s newly planted garden today. You’d have had me in my own dungeon.’
Jimmy studied the fallen impostor and the real Prince. Both men wore the same cut and colour of clothing. Jimmy said to Arutha, ‘When we came through the door, were you with us or already in the room?’
‘I entered with you. He must have come into the palace with the late celebrants and simply walked into my quarters.’
Jimmy agreed. ‘He hoped to catch you here, kill you, dump your body in one of the secret passages or down the sewer, and take your place. I don’t think he could have maintained the charade long, but if only for a few days he could have bollixed things up around here to a fare-thee-well.’
‘You’ve done well one more time, Jimmy.’ He asked Roald, ‘Will he live?’
Roald examined him. ‘I don’t know. These lads have a bothersome habit of dying when they shouldn’t, then not staying dead when they should.’
‘Get Nathan and the others. Take him to the east tower. Gardan, you know what to do.’
Jimmy watched while Father Nathan, a priest of Sung the White and one of Arutha’s advisers, examined the assassin. Each person who was admitted to the tower selected to house the prisoner was astonished at the likeness. Captain Valdis, a broad-shouldered man who had been Gardan’s chief lieutenant and had succeeded him as head of Arutha’s guard, shook his head. ‘No wonder the lads did nothing but salute when he walked in the palace, Highness. He’s your exact double.’
The Riftwar Saga Page 135
