King of Ashes [Book One]

by Raymond E. Feist

  Hatu realised it was perhaps more than a rhetorical question. ‘Little that is apparent,’ he replied.

  Bodai chuckled. ‘Hava?’ he asked.

  She looked around for a while, then said, ‘As Hatu said, nothing is immediately apparent.’

  Bodai grunted. ‘You are both young. You will learn. Cities are like creatures in and of themselves. They live, they try to grow, and sometimes that growth is beyond their ability to sustain, so they collapse in on themselves and wither. This is a city at its peak. It has two choices: to continue to expand until it can no longer sustain itself, or to find a comfortable limit.’

  Hatu finished, ‘And finding that limit without harming itself is the trick.’

  ‘Very good. Some cities, states, and nations are in a near-constant state of flux: disorder, calm, peace, and warfare. Others are limited by their natural resources, bad trade links, disease, or other factors. But here …’ Bodai made a sweeping gesture with his hand. ‘None of that is apparent.

  ‘And this you must know, Hatushaly, for it is not anything you were trained in; I don’t speak of smugglers, criminals, bribed customs agents, or all the unseen things you know too well. It is other things that are not apparent, hidden, unseen, that are often the most important.

  ‘Baron Dumarch is a very clever man; some might say he is the next Firemane, and Marquensas the next Ithrace. Here, theatres are built, music composed, and wealth spreads from the most powerful to the poorest citizen. This is paradise.’

  Hava said, ‘So, someone will come and try to take it from him.’

  Bodai laughed. He shook his head. ‘That is a very uncomplicated conclusion. It’s not quite that simple, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong; there’s a cleverness in you, not appreciated by most.’ He glanced back and forth between the youths. ‘You two are well matched.’ Pointing at Hatu, he said, ‘You spend a little too much time thinking.’ Then Bodai pointed at Hava. ‘And you, sometimes, not enough.’ He laughed. Then he turned back to Hatu. ‘But you, boy, prepare well before you act.’ He pointed again at Hava. ‘And you could learn from that, Hava,’ he said, grinning, ‘as you’re a little impulsive.’ He studied Hatu for a moment and said, ‘From her you can learn to hesitate less.’ Then he lost his smile. ‘Together you may prove to be very dangerous.’

  Hava and Hatu regarded the master with dubious expressions as he continued. ‘I do not limit the study of my students to the times I work with them directly; I know Facaria, and the other village masters, and I ask about my charges.’ He pointed at Hatu and spoke to Hava. ‘He and I have travelled together, so I believe I know him quite well. You’ – he pointed at her – ‘I know less about.’ He shrugged and turned forward again, motioning for them to continue.

  They followed him until they reached a major road stretching from the south and leading up to the main gate. Standing at the side of the entrance was a man of advancing years.

  ‘We are almost done,’ said Bodai. ‘But first, I will speak to each of you privately.’

  He motioned for Hatu to dismount and follow him a short distance away. When they were out of Hava’s earshot, Bodai said, ‘Now that this Declan and others in Beran’s Hill have met you, you will continue with the ruse that Hava is your wife. She will support you in this mission. You must maintain this façade for a while, perhaps months, or years even, but until you are told otherwise, do as that man over there tells you.’ He pointed to the man standing by the gate. ‘He is the baron’s body man, but he is also his bastard brother, and no one is more trusted by the baron than he is. Wait here.’

  Bodai walked over to where Hava stood with the horses and placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘You are Hatu’s wife now. You will need to keep to that ploy for as long as necessary. Go wherever he goes. Give him every reason to trust you. Make babies if you must. This is a long game.’ Hava understood. Some agents of the home island lived years in disguise, establishing themselves deep within a community before being called upon to act.

  Bodai continued, his expression even more serious, as he looked into her eyes as if studying her. ‘The moment word arrives, do as you are told, even if it means you must kill him and return to the home island immediately. Even if you are the mother of his children. Can you do that?’

  She hesitated only briefly, and then nodded.

  Bodai waved at Hatu to join them and when he had, the master said, ‘These are your last orders: wait, watch, and learn. If you discover something vital to our interests, find one of our agents at an inn called the Sign of the Gulls.’ He pointed to the southeast. ‘You should have no trouble finding it. It lies across the street from a small curio shop, which sells goods from all over the world. A man named Petyr is master there. Find him and repeat this greeting three times: “I bring a message for grandfather.” And then give him whatever message you have. He will send it to us as quickly as possible and get word back to you if there is a reply.

  ‘This is the end of my part in this.’ He turned towards the gate of the keep and saw Balven approaching. Pointing, he said, ‘That man will tell you everything else you need to know. Come with me.’

  He motioned for them to follow him. They led their mounts to the gate and stopped before Balven. Bodai introduced him to Hatu and Hava and said again, ‘You will do whatever he tells you to do.’ He then turned to look at Balven. ‘This is the boy,’ Bodai said without preamble. ‘Our task is discharged. Our arrangement is over.’

  As Bodai started to turn away, Balven asked, ‘Who is this girl?’

  ‘His wife,’ said Bodai as he mounted. ‘By the name of Hava.’

  ‘Wife? There was no—’

  Bodai interrupted. ‘There was no instruction to keep him from marrying.’ With a wry smile, he said, ‘So, you get two for the price of one!’ Without waiting for another reply, Bodai turned his mount and rode off.

  Balven looked at Hatu and said, ‘Take off your hat.’

  He did as instructed and Balven took a quick glance at the dirty but still recognisable copper and gold and said, ‘Put it back on. Come with me.’

  He turned and Hatu and Hava followed. Hava glanced at Hatu, tilting her head and raising her eyebrow slightly, a hardly noticeable expression that he recognised immediately: did he know what was going on? He answered with a tiny shake of his head, but added a reassuring smile, trying to communicate that he thought everything would be all right.

  As they entered the sprawling forecourt, Hatu could see a stable on the right side of the castle in the distance. He suspected a large marshalling yard was behind the massive central keep. Two men hurried forward and took their horses. Balven said, ‘Water and rest them, groom them quickly, but tack them back up; our guests will be leaving soon.’ The lackeys nodded and led the mounts away towards the stable.

  Hatu and Hava followed Balven through the entrance to the baron’s castle. The ancient keep walls had been repaired and renovated many times, so that it looked less like a fortress and more like a grand monument to peace and wealth. Generations of Baron Daylon’s ancestors had added façades and refinements, such as carved and polished wooden doors in the main archway where heavy timbers reinforced with iron had been used decades ago.

  The floors of the entry hall were made of polished marble and covered in thick woven carpets, instead of rough granite and furs, and the iron banisters had been replaced with polished wood. A massive chandelier hung over their heads, raised and lowered by brightly polished chains, so that a hundred candles could be easily lit or extinguished.

  It took all of Hatu and Hava’s self-discipline not to gawk at the fine tapestries on the wall to the left of the huge staircase, as the tall, arched windows illuminated the grand entrance in brilliant sunlight.

  The newcomers were led to a massive hall dominated by a long table. A large double door on the far left side of the room led them into another hallway, which ended in a good-sized room with chairs set around a circular table.

  ‘Wait over there,’ said Balven, pointing to a cor
ner.

  Not being invited to sit didn’t surprise Hatu, as his previous encounters with nobility, albeit of the minor variety, had taught him that commoners were not granted seats. A few minutes later, Balven entered with another man who wore finely tailored clothing, a silk shirt, linen trousers, leather ankle boots, and a matching belt. ‘I am Baron Daylon Dumarch,’ said the finely dressed man. He motioned for Hatu to approach, while Balven came to stand next to Hava, making it clear she was to remain where she was.

  The baron pulled out his own chair and then indicated that Hatu should also sit.

  Hatu was surprised but did as he was asked. When Hatu was seated, Daylon leaned forward. ‘Do you know who you are?’

  Hatu remained silent for a moment, then said, ‘I am Hatushaly. I am from the east.’

  Daylon laughed. ‘From the east … And you have some interesting tales to tell about that upbringing, I’ll wager … But, for some other time.’

  He paused as if considering what to say. Finally he spoke, ‘I knew your father, Hatu; he was a dear friend. Your real name is Sefan Langene. And you are the son of Steveren Langene, King of Ithrace, known as Firemane. By right, you became ruler of the Kingdom of Fire upon his death, and the death of all your siblings. You are a king.’

  Hatu sat motionless. ‘King?’

  ‘A king of ashes, perhaps, but a king nevertheless.’ He let out a sigh, as if he was dealing with a task long in coming and not welcome. ‘I hid you away from the many people who wished to see an end to your father’s line. But while you have a claim to this dead kingdom, you have no means to take it.’ He paused, then spoke almost as if to himself, not to Hatu. ‘And what is left to reclaim? Scattered villages? A once-proud city reduced to blackened stones, poisoned wells, and charred timbers?’ He seemed to come out of this momentary reverie and addressed Hatu. ‘So, now the question is, what are we to do with you?’ He glanced at Hava. ‘And your wife?’

  Hatu said, ‘My lord, I have no knowledge of the things you speak of, nor any sense of their importance. I have spent my life as a common man. I have modest skills in a few crafts, but until this morning I was but a horse trader, working for Bodai. My wife’s father,’ he quickly added.

  Hatu paused as he studied the baron for a moment, then said, ‘I was apprenticed in Coaltachin, but I am not one of them. I am not of their army. I never understood why … But now I do.’ He fell silent, but his mind raced. Everything fell into place: why he had been trained as if he were the son of a master, and why he would never become a master himself.

  Hatu paused and took a deep breath, then continued. ‘I was kept safe; they allowed me to become adept at the skills that keep their own children alive.’ He glanced at Hava. ‘My wife is equally able to care for herself, so I now suspect our marriage was planned.’ That last was a lie, but close enough to the truth to withstand scrutiny, should it ever come into question. His main reason for telling that falsehood was to let the baron know he was able to care for himself.

  ‘Very well,’ said Daylon. ‘If you wish to remain in my barony, you are welcome. But I would rather you did not remain in the city. It has been seventeen years since your kingdom fell, but too many who visit here remember the glory of Ithrace and the legacy of the Firemanes.’ He pointed at Hatu’s head. ‘That hair of yours is hard not to notice.’

  Hatu smiled. ‘I’ve been hiding my hair since childhood. I can continue to do so.’

  The baron fell silent for a moment, then said, ‘I must be truthful: I betrayed your father.’ He studied Hatu’s face, waiting for a reaction, and seeing none, he continued. ‘If you wish, at some point in the future, I will explain in detail how it came to pass, but for now all I will say is I faced the choice of aiding your father’s enemies or enduring destruction at his side.’

  Hatu shrugged slightly, then said, ‘I can make no judgement; I have no understanding of this, no clear sense of right or wrong.’ He shrugged for a second time. ‘It must have been a difficult choice.’

  Daylon looked regretful as he said, ‘It’s been a long time – your entire life – but at times I can still …’ He closed his eyes for only a few seconds, but Hatu sensed that the baron witnessed a flood of memories in that time.

  Daylon leaned forward even further, as if he wished to prevent any chance of Balven or Hava’s overhearing. ‘I loved your father like a brother, Hatu, but I had to choose between him and my people.’

  Hatu nodded. ‘I’ve seen your people, my lord. They are happy.’ He spoke in a tone that conveyed his approval of the choice. ‘I—’ he began, then stopped. ‘This king …’

  ‘Steveren,’ supplied Daylon. ‘Your father’s name was Steveren.’

  ‘He was unknown to me until this moment. I have no sense of being his kin or …’ Hatu fought for the concepts and suddenly they came, as if the words and knowledge he needed simply appeared without his prior understanding. He pushed aside surprise, deciding that he would deal with it later, and continued his thought. ‘He was my father, yet I feel nothing. From what you say, he was a great ruler, so his people must have felt more aggrieved by his loss than I ever could.’

  He took a moment and then continued. ‘I thank you for telling me this, my lord, and for keeping me safe all these years. But I am still a common man looking to make a life for myself and my wife.’ He nodded towards Hava, who was watching him intently. He knew that she understood something important was being discussed and trusted Hatu to let her know all that was said later.

  Daylon sat back. ‘There’s a town to the north called Beran’s Hill. It lies on the far edge of my lands but is still within the borders of Marquensas. I recommend you consider it. Trade is brisk, the surrounding lands rich, and an enterprising couple could make a fine life, even prosper there. It’s growing, so newcomers are far less noticeable than in other towns within my demesne. You can live there peacefully for the rest of your days if you keep your identity hidden.’

  The baron had no idea that Hatu already knew the town. Hatu said, ‘I will look into it, my lord. You are very generous.’

  Daylon produced a small pouch and pushed it towards the young man. ‘A token of my affection for your father. He was a truly great man, perhaps the finest I’ve ever known. Even though his kingdom is gone, it is good that his line is not. I’m guilty of betraying a man I loved, but I can save his son. I hope you’ll consider all our debts balanced.’

  Hatu again shrugged slightly. ‘As I said, I never knew the man, so your loss is greater than my own. For my life, I thank you and consider there to be a debt on my part. I do not know what a simple fellow such as myself could do for you, my lord, but you only need ask.’

  ‘Again, I suggest you go to Beran’s Hill. If you settle there, send me a message from time to time. I’d like to hear how my old friend’s son is doing.’ He stood and Hatu rose a moment after him.

  Hatu bowed slightly, uncertain how his unexpected elevation into the ranks of royalty changed anything. Lacking a castle and army, Hatu judged it changed very little. He glanced at Balven, who then indicated that it was time for Hatu and Hava to depart.

  Hava said nothing as they were escorted to the stables, where their freshly groomed and saddled mounts waited. Hatu thanked Balven and the two young people then rode slowly out of the gate and back into the city. When they had reached a relatively quiet spot in the square in front of the gate, away from the busy markets below, Hava reined in and asked, ‘So, you’re a king?’

  ‘In name only, it appears. From what little I know of Ithrace’s history, it is now a wild land of scorched cities and abandoned towns. Whatever there was of worth was carried off when it fell.’ He smiled. ‘Still, if you like, I can call you my queen.’

  Hava’s expression revealed that it wasn’t what she wanted. ‘What now?’

  Hatu took a quick look inside the pouch given him by Baron Daylon and said, ‘Apparently we are to return to Beran’s Hill.’

  ‘Do we?’

  ‘I think so. The baron seems to want
us there, and I doubt we’ll be invited back here soon, so finding out anything useful in the city is unlikely.’ He glanced around. ‘Besides, as he told me, there are too many people here likely to spread word of my existence, word that will easily find the ear of those who wish me dead.’

  He pointed to his hat. ‘We need dye, good-quality dye, the type that doesn’t wash out easily. Just enough to turn my hair reddish brown.’ He patted his stomach. ‘And I am hungry, so we also need a good inn with a good room.’ He smiled at her. ‘And once we are alone, the pleasures of a man and his wife.’

  ‘We are not truly married,’ she reminded him with mock disapproval.

  ‘An oversight we must rectify as soon as we can. Declan spoke of the many weddings held at midsummer. We shall make up a story about wanting a more serious ceremony than … whatever we had before.’ He started laughing. ‘Tonight, we shall sleep in a soft bed after eating a grand meal’ – he jingled the purse given to him by the baron – ‘and we shall concoct a believable story. We shall be man and wife and we shall stay in Beran’s Hill until we need to depart.’

  Hatu knew he would never again answer to the demands of Coaltachin, for it was clear to him that Bodai’s words to Balven had freed him from any obligation to the Invisible Nation. But Hava didn’t need to know that yet.

  He put away the possibility that he might one day need a way to prevent his wife from killing him in the corner of his mind.

  ‘Where to?’ she asked.

  ‘A fine inn, and then tomorrow Beran’s Hill.’

  ‘What then?’ she asked as they both mounted.