James didn’t hesitate. He feigned a blow to Yusuf’s right hand, and as the Keshian moved to block, James spun to his own right, taking him away from the Keshian spy. Before Yusuf could recover, James was standing at his exposed left side, and all the merchant could manage was to fall away, avoiding a killing blow. This brought James right into the reach of the approaching guard, who lashed out high with his sword, a blow designed to decapitate the squire.
James ducked and thrust, running the man through. He then leapt to his right, knowing full well that Yusuf would be coming hard on his blind side. James hit the floor and rolled, feeling the scimitar slice the air above him. As he had hoped, Yusuf was momentarily slowed as he tried to avoid tripping over the falling corpse of his guard, and that afforded James enough time to regain his feet.
Off to one side, James could make out Jazhara and the other guard locked in combat. She wheeled the staff like an expert, taking his sword blows on hardened oak and lashing back with the iron tips. One good crack to the skull and the fight would be over, and both James and Jazhara’s opponent knew that.
Yusuf came in with his sword point low, circling to his right. James glimpsed bales of cloth and display racks to his own right and moved to counter Yusuf. The spy wanted James’s back to possible obstructions, so he might cause the squire to trip.
James knew it was now just a matter of who made the first mistake. He had been in struggles like this before, and knew fear and fatigue were the enemies most to be avoided. Yusuf s face was a study in concentration: he was probably thinking the same thoughts.
James paused as if weighing which way to move, inviting Yusuf into committing himself to an attack. Yusuf declined. He waited. Both men were breathing heavily.
James resisted the urge to glance to where Jazhara struggled to finish off her opponent, knowing that to do so would invite an attack. The two men stood poised, each ready for an opening, each waiting for the other to commit.
Then James had an inspiration. He intentionally glanced to the left, at Jazhara, seeing her block a blow from the guard; she took the tip of the staff inside the man’s guard, and James saw her deliver a punching blow with the iron end of the staff to the man’s middle. He heard the man’s breath explode out of his lungs, but didn’t see it, for at that precise moment, James spun blindly away to his left.
As he had expected, Yusuf had acted the moment James’s eyes wandered, and as he had also suspected, the attack came off a combination of blade movements. A feint to the heart, which should have caused James’s sword to lash up and out, to block the scimitar, followed by a looping drop of the tip of the scimitar to a low, inside stab, designed to impale James in the lower belly.
But James wasn’t there. Rather than parry, he had spun to the left, and again found himself on Yusuf’s right hand. And rather than dance away, James closed. Yusuf hesitated for an instant, recognizing he was over-extended and needed to come back into a defensive posture. That was all James needed.
His rapier struck out and the point took Yusuf in the right side of his neck. With a sickening gurgling sound, the spy stiffened. Then his eyes rolled up and his knees gave way and he fell to the floor.
James pulled out his sword and turned to see Jazhara break the skull of the last guard.
The man went down and Jazhara retreated, glancing around to see if any threats remained. Seeing only James standing upright, she rested on her staff as she tried to catch her breath.
James walked to her and said, “You all right?”
She nodded. “I’m fine.”
James then looked around the room. Bolts of cloth were overturned and had been sent every which way, and many were now stained with crimson.
Letting out a long breath, James said, “What a mess.”
TWO
Schemes
James sheathed his sword. “Where did the children go?”
Jazhara looked around, then glanced up the stairs. “I’ll look up there. You see if they are hiding in that office,” she instructed, and pointed to the door at the rear of the shop.
James nodded, with a half-smile. No point in making an issue out of who was in charge, he thought, turning to comply with her instructions. She was, after all, a princess by birth. Then as he reached the door he wondered, does a court magician outrank a squire?
He opened the door, sword at the ready, in case someone else lurked within. He entered a small office at the center of which stood a writing table. Two burning lamps lighted the room, and a large chest stood against the far wall. The chest was apparently unlocked, its hasp hanging open, but James had received too many harsh lessons about trusting appearances, and so he approached the chest with caution. He glanced first at the papers spread across the writing table and saw several in a Keshian script he recognized. Most of these were orders for dyed cloth. Other letters in the King’s Tongue were also business-related. Then he spied two documents in a script he did not know.
He was examining the chest for traps when Jazhara appeared in the doorway. Through clenched teeth she said, “The dog had the children caged.”
James turned and looked through the door and saw a dozen frightened children, ranging in age from five to ten, standing mute behind the magician. They were dressed in filthy rags, their faces streaked with grime. James let out a slow sigh. Poor children in Krondor were nothing unusual; he had been an “urchin” himself before becoming a thief. But systematic abuse of children was not part of normal Kingdom practices. “What do we do with them?”
“What was that place you spoke of earlier?”
“The Sign of the Yellow Shield. It’s an orphanage established by the Princess and the Order of Dala.”
One of the children drew back at mention of the place, and James remembered Nita’s reaction. James called into the main room, “You, boy, why does that frighten you?”
The lad just shook his head, fear written across his face.
Jazhara put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right. No one will hurt you. Why are you frightened?”
A girl behind the boy said, “These men said they were from the Yellow Shield and if we came here they’d feed us.”
James rose, left the office, pushed past Jazhara to where the nearest thug lay in a pool of blood. To an older boy he said, “Run outside and find a city watchman. You should find one two streets over by the Inn of the Five Stars. Tell him Squire James requires two men here as soon as possible. Can you remember that?”
The boy nodded and ran off, leaving the street door open behind him. James glanced after him and said, “Well, if he doesn’t head straight for a hideout somewhere, help should be here in a few minutes.”
Jazhara watched as James turned the dead Keshian over and looted his purse. “What are you looking for?” she asked.
James held up a ring. “This.” He rose and handed it to her to examine.
She turned the ring over in her hand. It was a simple iron ring with a small painted yellow iron shield fastened to it. “Those who serve the Order of Dala wear a ring similar to this. I suspect these men showed this to the children to lure them here, claiming they were taking them to the orphanage.”
Jazhara glanced toward the children, several of whom nodded. “That would explain why Nita was so adamant about not going there,” she said.
James returned to the office and looked again at the closed chest. He hesitated, then opened it. Inside were more documents. He removed a few and asked, “Jazhara, can you read these? They appear to be in a form of Keshian I don’t understand.”
Jazhara took the proffered documents and glanced at the topmost. “I can read them, but it’s a desert script, from the area around Durbin, and not from the interior of Kesh.”
James nodded. He could only read formal court Keshian. Jazhara’s eyes widened. “Filthy traitor! Yusuf has been using my great-uncle and his resources, setting Kesh against your Prince, and your Prince against Kesh!”
James looked perplexed. Finding out that Yusuf was a
Keshian agent was hardly a shock. Discovering he was also betraying his master was. “Why?”
Jazhara held out a single page. “To serve someone named ‘the Crawler.”’
James rolled his eyes heavenward, but stayed silent. The Crawler had been a thorn in the side of both the Prince and the Mockers for months now and James was no closer to establishing his identity than he had been the day he had first heard his name. Hoping for some clue, he asked, “What else does it say?”
Jazhara finished reading the document, then looked at the next. “This Crawler is someone of note, someone who rewarded Yusuf handsomely for his betrayal. There are references to payments already made of large amounts of gold and other considerations.”
She hurried through several other documents, then came to one that caused her to stop and go pale. “This cannot be . . .” she whispered.
“What?” asked James.
“It is a warrant for my death should I choose not to serve Yusuf. It bears my great-uncle’s signature and seal.”
She held it out with a shaking hand and James took it. He examined the paper closely then said, “It isn’t.”
“Isn’t?” she asked softly.
“You said it cannot be and I’m saying you’re right. It isn’t real. It’s a forgery.”
“How can you be certain?” she asked. “I’ve seen my great-uncle’s script and seal many times and this appears to be from his hand and ring.”
James grinned. “It’s too flawless. I doubt that even your great-uncle could order the death of his favorite niece without some noticeable trembling in his hand. The letters are too prefect. I can’t read the words, but I can see the handwriting and it’s a clever forgery. Besides, even if the handwriting displayed that slight agitation I’d expect, there are two other reasons.”
“Which are?” she asked as the sound of approaching footsteps reached them.
“Your great-uncle would never be stupid enough to sign his own name to a death warrant on any Keshian noble, especially one in his own family. More to the point, we’ve seen a fair number of documents bearing his seal in the palace over the years and there’s a tiny imperfection in his signet.” James pointed. “Look here. Where the long point of the star touches the bottom of the seal there should be a fine crack, as if the ring has a tiny fracture. This seal doesn’t have it. The ring wasn’t his.”
“Then why?” asked Jazhara. As she spoke, a small company of the city watch appeared outside the door.
“Because,” said James, striding toward the door, “if the new court mage in Krondor dies and someone in the Imperial Court starts casting around for someone to blame, who better than the head of the Keshian Intelligence Corps? Someone in the Empress’s Palace might wish to see him removed and replaced with his own man.”
“The Crawler?” asked Jazhara.
James turned and nodded.
“Then he is someone of importance,” she said. “To threaten my great-uncle is to risk much. Only a man with his own power base within Kesh would dare this.”
At the door, a guard of the watch said, “One of these children came to us and we hurried here as quickly as we could, Squire. What can we do to help?”
James replied, “There are some bodies inside that need to be removed, but otherwise everything’s under control.” He glanced at the children who hovered around them in a circle, as if ready to bolt should the alarm go up. “You’d better take charge of this lot before they scatter.”
“Where shall we take them?”
James said, “To the Shield of Dala Orphanage the Princess helped found, over by the Sea Gate. Last I heard they had plenty of beds and hot food.”
Several children started to inch away, as if getting ready to flee. Jazhara crouched and reached out as if to gather the fearful children to her. She said, “They are not like the men who have hurt you. There you will truly find food and warm beds.”
Confronted otherwise with the prospect of a cold night with only stones to sleep upon and an empty belly, the children remained. The guard looked around. “Well, then, if you’re all right getting back to the palace without a guard, Squire, we’ll get this bunch moving. Come along, children,” he said, trying not to sound too gruff.
The children left with two of the guards while the remaining pair peered into the building. “We’ll have these bodies gone by morning. What about the building?” one of them asked.
James replied, “It’ll be looted five minutes after you leave, so I’m going to poke around a little more and take anything important to the prince. Once we’re gone, get rid of the bodies and let whoever wanders by take what he wants. If the previous owner has any heirs, I would welcome them coming to the palace to complain.”
The watchman saluted and James and Jazhara reentered the dyer’s shop. Jazhara thoroughly examined every paper in the chest and James inspected every likely spot that might harbor a secret hiding place. After an hour, James announced, “I don’t think there’s anything else.”
Jazhara had been carefully reading the papers found in Yusuf ‘s office. “There’s enough here to warrant a full investigation from my great-uncle’s end,” she said. “This attempt to have my death placed at his feet in order to discredit him . . . it would have created a virtual civil war in the north of the Empire, for the desert tribes would know it to be a false accusation.”
“But the Empress and her council in the City of Kesh might believe it.”
Jazhara nodded. “Whoever this Crawler is, he seeks to benefit from confrontation between our peoples, James. Who would gain from such chaos?”
James said, “It’s a long list. I’ll tell you sometime. Right now, we should get to the palace. You have barely enough time to take a short nap, change into clean clothing, eat, then be presented to Prince Arutha.”
Jazhara took a final long look around the room, as if searching for something or trying to impress details on her memory, then without comment she lifted her staff and moved purposefully toward the door.
James hesitated for a half-step, then overtook her. “You’ll send word to your great-uncle?” he asked when he caught up with her.
“Certainly. This Crawler may be Keshian and what occurs here in Krondor may be but a part of a larger scheme, but it’s clear that my great-uncle is at risk.”
James said, “Well, there’s the matter of the Prince.”
“Oh.” Jazhara stared at James. “Do you think he would begrudge my great-unde a warning?”
James touched her shoulder lightly. “It’s not that. It’s only . . .”
“Matters of politics,” she finished.
“Something like that,” James said. They turned a corner. “It may be there’s no problem in communicating this discovery to your great-uncle, but Arutha may request you leave out certain facts, such as how you got the information.”
Jazhara smiled slightly. “As in not revealing we know Yusuf was ostensibly an agent working on behalf of Great Kesh?”
James grinned. “Something like that,” he repeated.
As they continued to walk, she added after a while, “Perhaps we could simply say that while dealing with an illegal slavery ring, we discovered a plot to murder me and pin the blame upon my great-uncle, to the purpose of having him removed from his position as Governor of the Jal-Pur.”
“My thinking exactly.”
Jazhara laughed. “Do not worry, my friend. Politics are second nature to Keshian nobles not born of the True Blood.”
James frowned. “I’ve heard that term once or twice before, but must confess I’m vague as to what it means.”
Jazhara turned a corner, putting them on a direct path back to the palace. “Then you must visit the City of Kesh and visit the Empress’s court. There are things I can tell you about Kesh that will not make sense until you have seen them with your own eyes. The True Blood Keshians, those whose ancestors first hunted lions on the grasslands around the Overn Deep, are such. Words would not do them justice.”
A hint of iro
ny — or bitterness — tinged her words, and James couldn’t tell which, but James decided not to pursue the matter. They crossed out of the Merchants’ Quarter and entered the palace district.
As they approached the palace gates, Jazhara glanced over to the large building opposite and noticed the solitary guardsman there. “An Ishapian enclave?”
James studied the sturdy man who stood impassively at his post, a lethal-looking warhammer at his belt. “Yes, though I have no idea of its purpose.”
Jazhara looked at James with a wry smile and a twinkling eye and said, “There’s something occurring in Krondor about which you’re ignorant?”
James returned her smile. “What I should have said is that I have no idea what its purpose is - yet.”
The guards came to attention as James and Jazhara reached the gates and the senior guard said, “Welcome back, Squire. You’ve found her, then?”
James nodded. “Gentlemen, may I present Jazhara, court mage of Krondor.”
At this, one of the other guards began to stare at Jazhara. “By the gods!” he exclaimed suddenly.
“You’ve something to say?” James inquired.
The guard flushed. “Beggin‘ your pardon, Squire, but a Keshian? So close to our Prince?”
Jazhara looked from one to the other, then said, “Set your minds at rest, gentlemen. I have taken oath and I will swear fealty to Arutha. Your prince is my lord, and like you, I shall defend him unto death.”
The senior guard threw a look at the outspoken soldier that clearly communicated they would be talking about his outburst later. Then he said, “Your pardon, milady. We are honored to have you in Krondor.”
“My thanks to you, sir,” replied Jazhara as the gates were opened.
James followed, and as the gates were closed behind them he said, “You’ll have to excuse them. They’re naturally wary of strangers.”
“You mean, wary of Keshians. Think nothing of it. We would be equally suspicious of a Kingdom magician in the court of the Empress, She Who Is Kesh. When Master Pug entrusted me to this position, he was very clear that my appointment is not to be political.”
Krondor Tear of the Gods Page 5
