King of Ashes [Book One]

by Raymond E. Feist

  Returning to Kalanora’s stall, Ratigan said, ‘Better one priest than ten telling us what to do, I should think.’

  ‘You’re too young to understand,’ said Kalanora. ‘Hell, even I’m too young and I’m older than you.’ She half laughed, half snorted as they moved behind the table where her daughters waited. ‘When I was a child, some of the old churches still had influence, but they also had this … I guess you could call it respect. You could make offerings and sacrifices to whichever god you fancied and people rarely noticed or cared.

  ‘Now, if you so much as mutter the name of an old god around one of the black robes, you end up tied to a stake on a stack of kindling. Even the followers of Tathan are saying that the sun god was only a harbinger of the One, spreading light, getting the righteous prepared for the coming of the word.’ She sighed. ‘Clever actually – they got to keep their jobs as long as they shared the money.’

  Declan said nothing. He had thought little about faith, as there weren’t any temples or shrines in Oncon, and it was difficult to reach the ones in Ilcomen. He’d only been in a few over the years, when travelling with Edvalt, who would occasionally stop and toss a few coins into the priest’s box to receive a blessing. Declan didn’t pretend to understand matters of faith. Mostly he didn’t care.

  Kalanora let out a long sigh of resignation. Then her eyes narrowed and she said, ‘Again, what’s your business, Ratigan?’

  ‘My friend Declan is a smith. He’s looking to set up a forge. I told him if anyone knew where he could best position himself in Marquensas it would be Kalanora.’

  ‘Smith, huh?’ she muttered as she looked Declan up and down. Her daughters visibly brightened and, smiling, became more attentive, as a good smith could afford a family and provide for them year-round. As they started to step forward, Kalanora waved them back without looking. ‘Any good?’

  Declan nodded.

  ‘Well, Marquensas has more smiths than a dog has fleas, especially here in the city. So, no matter how good you are, there are established smiths who are as good as you here, and pulling trade from them won’t win you friends.’

  ‘That’s why we came to you, Kalanora,’ said Ratigan with what Declan could only call a false smile.

  Kalanora raised one corner of her mouth in a dismissive expression but turned to Declan. ‘There’s an empty forge near the frontier. Can be dangerous country sometimes, but you look like the sort of lad who can care for himself.’

  Again, Declan nodded.

  She was silent for a moment and then glanced at Ratigan. ‘This isn’t a favour, Ratigan.’

  Declan reached into his belt and removed his coin purse. He took out two silver Ilcomen coins and handed them to her. She glanced down as she took them and nodded. ‘Go north, along the coast, past Lord Dumarch’s villa at the headlands, then take the road that heads inland from the village of Pashtar. Three days’ steady travel and you’ll find a town called Beran’s Hill. Nice little place. Northernmost town in Marquensas, so it can be a little lively up there, even dangerous, as I said, but it’s a busy trade route. Their smith died a few weeks ago, I was told, so unless someone else has squatted there, the forge is empty. Go to the Inn of the Three Stars and ask for the owner, Leon. He holds the widow’s rights to the forge. Tell him I sent you and make him a decent offer for the widow and you’ll have a nice forge on a busy trading route. You may have to toss out a squatter, if Leon hasn’t already, but you’ll have no easier start than there. I hear it’s a dandy forge. You can’t do better than that unless you’re working for the nobility.’

  Declan nodded and said, ‘Thank you,’ as he handed her another silver coin.

  She glanced at it, nodded once, then said, ‘Now go away. I have business to conduct and there’s been enough interruptions for one day.’

  Ratigan grinned evilly and said, ‘See you soon, Kalanora. Love the new hair colour.’

  Kalanora muttered, ‘That bitch Clothild swore it would be just like when I was young. Now I look like my head’s growing carrots!’ She lost her harsh look and laughed. ‘I wear the scarf so people won’t think I’m the Firemane baby!’

  Ratigan backed away and said, ‘Little old for that assumption, aren’t you?’

  She immediately lost her good humour.

  Ratigan bowed slightly, staying out of her reach.

  Declan nodded thanks, and noticed that both of the girls watched them as they left. When they were out of sight, Declan said, ‘Firemane baby?’

  Ratigan said, ‘Where did you grow up?’

  ‘Oncon.’

  ‘I guess that explains it,’ said the teamster as they headed back towards Ratigan’s wagon. ‘Used to be five grand kingdoms. Now there are four. Ithrace’s king was called Firemane, because of his red hair. All his line had it. A kind of coppery gold shot through with sunshine, according to the stories. The tale is that every Firemane was killed save a baby who some servant carried away. Anyway, there was also a curse or something to do with the death of the last Firemane.’

  ‘Last? I thought you said there was a baby who lived?’

  ‘That’s just a story,’ answered Ratigan.

  As they neared the wagon, Ratigan said, ‘On the other hand, there’s been enough bad stuff happening in the east since that king’s death … Maybe there really was a curse.’ He stopped for a minute, then said, ‘But if there was a child …?’ He shrugged. ‘The other four kings would pay a handsome bounty for it; grown boy or girl now, I expect. Now, anything else you want to know about?’

  ‘Those girls?’

  Ratigan grinned as they resumed walking. ‘The dark one’s called Mina, the fair one’s Phaedra. Different fathers, as you can tell from the looks. Mina’s mean and Phaedra’s sweet, but get a few cups of wine in them, and both know how to have a good time.’

  Declan frowned. He realised they might offer him a similar sort of relationship to the one he had with Roz, but he had feelings for her. He gave Ratigan a disapproving look for a second, then shrugged.

  Ratigan stopped again and looked at Declan. ‘Why? They can be fun; getting them away from Kalanora is the problem.’

  ‘I don’t know. Just …’ He fell silent, thinking of everything that had happened recently, from becoming a master smith to his last night with Roz and talking to her husband, all of it. His confusion was still there, but he knew it would eventually fade. ‘Nothing really,’ said Declan as he resumed their walk.

  Finally, as they turned the corner leading to the open yard where the wagon waited, he said, ‘I’m a master smith now. I’m about to open a new forge. I should be settling down.’

  Ratigan laughed. ‘You haven’t had much time with the girls, then.’ He slapped the younger man on the back playfully, a gesture Declan endured silently. ‘Those girls are just sport for the night, not future mothers.’ He paused and reconsidered. ‘Let me say that differently: they are almost certain to become mothers, more likely sooner rather than later, but they are not of the type to make good wives.’

  Declan kept his face a mask. Arguing with Ratigan wasted too much time and energy. He also knew from talking to travellers that a lot of men felt that way towards the women they encountered. But he was a village lad and had grown up in a place where mothers taught their daughters to be a certain way – even those daughters who didn’t listen; he’d bedded a few of those who didn’t listen to their mothers – and he thought of Edvalt and Mila, and the other older couples in Oncon … maybe he was just a village boy out in a different world. Either way, Declan didn’t care for the feeling listening to Ratigan gave him. Meeting Jack after bedding Roz had made him uneasy, and now he realised he was trying to rethink how he should feel about women … and he was totally lost. At least Ratigan was firm in his opinions, crass as they were.

  ‘You’re going to be the only smith in town. Many mothers would love to marry off their daughters to a smith. Most towns, your only rival would be the miller or a very successful trader. So, wait a bit and see what kind of place B
eran’s Hill turns out to be. If you don’t like the girls there, save up a little gold, head back here, and see if there’s a shopkeeper’s daughter who suits you better.’

  Declan paused as he considered what Ratigan had just said, and then laughed. ‘Ratigan, you surprise me.’

  The teamster stopped and looked at Declan. ‘Why?’

  ‘For such an ill-tempered fellow, you show depth; that was actually very sound advice. I thank you.’

  Ratigan looked at Declan and for a moment couldn’t seem to decide if he’d just been insulted or complimented, then he also laughed. ‘I do have my moments,’ he replied, and they resumed their walk.

  They reached the wagon and found Jusan awake. ‘Been nothing but quiet around here,’ he said to Declan. ‘What now?’

  Declan turned to Ratigan. ‘Is there a safe place to keep my tools and anvil tonight?’

  ‘My old master’s yard. Unless someone beat us there with news of his demise, Milrose’s house should be locked.’ He reached into a belt purse and pulled out a key. ‘And I can get in.’

  Declan took out some coins and said, ‘I’m going to go find Gildy and ask him a few questions, then meet you at Milrose’s place. Buy some grain for your horses, and some food for us. We leave for Beran’s Hill at dawn.’

  Ratigan told Declan how to find Milrose’s shop, then looked at Jusan as Declan walked away and said, ‘He takes charge, doesn’t he?’

  Jusan’s colour had returned, and for the first time since his injury, he laughed. ‘You have no idea. But he is a man to trust. He was a better big brother to me than my own big brother.’

  Ratigan climbed onto the seat of the wagon, urged the horses to turn around, and started off towards his late master’s shop.

  Declan returned to the market and could feel the tempo of the place was slowing. It was perhaps two hours to sundown and people who needed to be home to prepare meals or tend to children had already departed.

  After questioning a few locals, Declan was fairly clear on where he needed to go, and less than half an hour later found himself at the door of Gildy’s forge. The large blond man stood above a wheel rim, hammering it to a wooden wheel. Seeing no apprentice at hand, Declan steadied the wheel so Gildy could finish quickly.

  When he was done Gildy said, ‘Thanks. I sent my boy off to fetch in some coal and thought to complete this myself. Not as nimble as I once was.’ He smiled as he wiped his brow with a rag. ‘Now, what brings you here?’

  Looking around to make sure they weren’t overheard, Declan said, ‘You said to come by and we’d talk about how things get done here. I’m leaving tomorrow, so here I am.’

  Gildy laughed. ‘Help me put this on that wagon over there and we’ll get a drink.’

  Declan did as he was asked and by the time they were finished Gildy’s apprentice had appeared with a scuttle filled with coal. Gildy instructed him in what he wanted done, then said to Declan, ‘There’s a little inn at the corner, where most of us gather at the end of the day.’ He glanced at the angle of the sun and said, ‘It’s a little early, but that’s good, as there are a few things I’d like to discuss without being overheard.’

  ‘Right,’ said Declan.

  Gildy pointed to the sword at Declan’s side. ‘That is true jewel steel?’

  Declan nodded.

  Gildy grinned, his face still beaded with perspiration. ‘Most smiths would have polished that to a mirror and hung it on the wall to boast about it.’

  Declan inclined his head slightly and shrugged. ‘My master was not about boasting.’

  ‘I know of Edvalt. Did he tell you much about his early life?’

  ‘Some,’ said Declan, offering no more.

  ‘Well, he knew weapons, that’s a fact. Maybe the best around, from what I remember. I was only a young journeyman when he was the baron’s armourer. I only caught a glimpse or two of him before …’

  ‘Before the Betrayal,’ Declan finished. He knew that Gildy could only mean the betrayal that ended the Five Kingdoms when he was a boy. The Betrayal was a topic few openly referred to; it was behind them now, and any who spoke of it were mindful of who might be listening. Baron Daylon might not have cared what common folk thought, but the Church of the One had ears everywhere, it seemed.

  Gildy nodded, ‘As I said, Edvalt was in service to Baron Daylon. I worked at another forge here in the city, still learning what I needed to know to get my own place.’ He made a gesture as they walked out of the door of the smithy, motioning for Declan to follow. ‘Now, what do you want to know?’

  ‘Whatever it was that you wanted to tell me in private,’ said Declan.

  ‘We’ve just discussed most of it. There are maybe three smiths in Marquensas who can make jewel steel, four now with your arrival – not that there’s much call for weapons so fine. I’m the only one in this city. That you can, and that Edvalt was your master, marks you as finely trained, and not a lot of the lads around here are anxious to have a better smith show up. Making rims for wagon wheels’ – he hiked his thumb over his shoulder, took off his apron, and hung it on a nail in the wall before he continued – ‘that will feed the family, but weapons and armour are still the best source of gold. It’s been peaceful enough around here for the last ten years, but on the frontier things are lively, so there’s a steady call for weapons. And I hear that back east things are getting nastier by the month, but so far it’s still quiet around here.

  ‘So, those of us in Marquenet, we just get by, which is why everyone’s a little anxious about arrivals such as yourself.’

  ‘That doesn’t quite explain the welcome,’ said Declan.

  ‘Well, the boys are also concerned about someone with little talent offering lower prices. It reflects badly on the rest of us if we don’t chase them off.’

  ‘You’re beginning to sound like a guild.’

  Gildy smiled and then quickly let it fade. His brow furrowed a little as he said, ‘Not a proper one. Baron Dumarch wouldn’t let a guild organise; besides, as I said earlier, he’s a fair enough man who’s true to his word, so we’ve no need to make it formal. We stay in touch with each other and make sure any steel made in Marquenet is not a bad reflection on any of us. The ironmongers know better than to bring poor-quality ore to the city.’

  Declan nodded. ‘Fair.’

  Gildy said, ‘Now, I need a flagon; there’s nothing left to speak of that can’t be overheard safely.’

  Declan again nodded as they continued walking.

  Gildy glanced at him and said, ‘Don’t talk much, do you?’

  A slightly embarrassed smile accompanied Declan’s reply, ‘No more than I must, I guess.’ Declan could be as voluble as the next fellow in comfortable surroundings and with a jack of ale in hand, but in a strange city, finding his way, he felt it better to listen than talk.

  Gildy led him to a small inn two streets away from his shop and found a table. It was a little early in the day for most businesses to close, so the room wasn’t crowded yet. An obliging barmaid brought over two large flagons of ale, and Gildy finished off a long pull by wiping the back of his hand across his mouth before saying, ‘So, then, what else can I do for you, Declan?’

  ‘Tell me about Beran’s Hill?’

  Gildy tilted his head a bit and said, ‘Beran’s Hill? Interesting place. Might be just the spot for an enterprising youngster like yourself.’ He leaned forward, elbows on the table. ‘No smith, I hear; people there have to make a day’s journey or more to get things fixed, or wait until some tinker comes by with a cart.’ He sat hack after taking a second drink. ‘Used to be a smith there by the name of Walter; Walter the Smith.’

  Declan said nothing. He would also be called Declan the Smith or Declan Smith: he was a bastard and would therefore be known by his trade, not his father’s name.

  ‘He was one mean old man, Walt Smith, though I hear his missus is a nice enough woman,’ said Gildy. ‘Beran’s Hill is on a crossing of trade routes that skirt most civilised places, and a few road
s that lead to a few where no timid soul would go. Quite a lot of smuggling going on up there. The road to reach the town cuts through the Wilds twice.’

  ‘So it’s dangerous?’

  ‘It’s called the Wilds for a reason. The baron’s half portion has been fairly quiet for years; he sends troops up there once in a while if things get too troublesome, but the eastern half earns its name.

  ‘Besides, most places can be dangerous, Declan. For some reason the baron’s put no garrison in Beran’s Hill; some speculate he’s looking the other way so that trade can go east without paying duty, though that makes little sense, or he has some other reason. It can be dangerous there at times. That fancy sword you cobbled up? Can you use it?’

  ‘If need be.’

  ‘Good, because the question isn’t “Is Beran’s Hill dangerous?”, it’s “How dangerous a place is it?”’

  Declan smiled. ‘So how dangerous is it?’

  ‘It’s pretty rough-and-tumble. You’re from the Covenant, yes? That’s where I heard Edvalt went.’

  ‘Yes, I grew up in Oncon.’

  ‘Used to be a pretty peaceful place, with every king ready to hang anyone who started trouble.’

  ‘Until recently, yes.’

  ‘So where’d you learn to handle a sword?’

  ‘Edvalt always said it was a poor smith who didn’t know what his customers needed. So he taught me to use weapons, ride horses, work a team, even plough. I can cook a bit as well, so I know pots and kettles.’ Declan paused. ‘Still, with weapons you’ve got even more wagered on knowing how they work.’

  ‘Truth, that, but there’s a difference between knowing and being good. You good?’

  ‘Good enough.’

  Gildy said, ‘Then you should be all right in Beran’s Hill. You’ll get some rough traders and drunk caravan guards most of the time, but once in a while some very dangerous types will pass through the town, the kind you can’t talk to, except with blood and steel. So most of the lads who’ve taken residence there are tough, able to defend the town.’