Prince of the Blood, the King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  ‘You learn something new every day,’ said Borric.

  Nakor said, ‘I don’t like it. Ale should be warm. This makes my head hurt.’

  Borric laughed. Ghuda said, ‘Well, then, we’re in Kesh. How do we reach these friends of yours?’

  Borric lowered his voice. ‘I …’

  Ghuda’s eyes narrowed. ‘What now?’

  ‘I know where they are. I’m just not sure how to get there.’

  Ghuda’s eyes became angry slits. ‘Where?’

  ‘They are in the palace.’

  ‘God’s teeth!’ Ghuda exploded, and several of the inn’s patrons turned for a moment to see what caused the outburst. Lowering his voice to a whisper, but not losing his angry tone, he said, ‘You are joking, aren’t you? Please say that you are joking.’

  Borric shook his head. Ghuda stood up and put his lone dirk in his belt, and picked up his helm. ‘Where are you going?’ asked Borric.

  ‘Anywhere but where you are going. Madman.’

  Borric said, ‘You gave your word!’

  Looking down, Ghuda said, ‘I said I’d get you to Kesh. You’re in Kesh. You didn’t say a thing about the palace.’ Pointing an accusatory finger at Borric he said, ‘You owe me five thousand golden ecu, and I’ll never see a tenth of one coin of it.’

  Borric said, ‘You’ll get it. You have my word. But I have to find my friends.’

  ‘In the palace,’ hissed Ghuda.

  ‘Sit down, people are watching.’

  Ghuda sat. ‘Let them watch. I’m going to be on the first boat for Kimri I can find. I’ll get to Hansulé and take ship for the Eastern Kingdoms. I will be sitting caravan watch in some foreign land for the rest of my life, but I’ll be alive, which is more than I can say for you if you try to get into the palace.’

  Borric smiled. ‘I know a trick or two. What will it take to keep you with us?’

  Ghuda couldn’t believe Borric was serious. After a moment, he said, ‘Double what you promised. Ten thousand ecu.’

  Borric said, ‘Done.’

  ‘Ha!’ snapped Ghuda. ‘Easy enough to promise anything when we’re all going to be dead in a day or two.’

  Turning to Suli, Borric said, ‘We need to get in touch with certain people.’

  Suli blinked uncomprehendingly. ‘Master?’

  Whispering, Borric said, ‘The Guild of Thieves. The Mockers. The Ragged Brotherhood, or whatever they’re called in this city.’

  Suli nodded as if he understood, but his expression showed he didn’t have a hint as to what Borric wanted. ‘Master?’

  Borric said, ‘What sort of a street beggar are you?’

  Suli shrugged. ‘One from a city without such a group, master.’

  Borric shook his head. ‘Look, get out of here and find the nearest market. Find a beggar – you’ll be able to do that, won’t you?’ Suli nodded. ‘Just drop a coin in his hand and say there’s a traveller who needs to speak to someone on a matter of urgency and that it is a matter worth the time of people who can get things done in this city. Understand?’

  ‘I think so, master.’

  ‘If the beggar asks any more questions, just say this …’ Borric sought to remember some of the stories James had told him about his own boyhood with the thieves of Krondor and after a long moment he added, ‘… one is in town who wishes not to cause difficulty by being here, but who wishes to make arrangements so that all may benefit. Can you do that?’

  Suli repeated his instructions and when Borric was satisfied he had them correctly, he sent the boy off. They drank in relative silence, until Borric saw Nakor reach into his rucksack and pull out some cheese and bread. Looking pointedly at the Isalani, Borric said, ‘Hey, wait a minute. When the guard examined that bag it was empty?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Nakor, his white teeth looking as if they didn’t quite fit his face.

  ‘How’d you do that?’ asked Ghuda.

  ‘It’s a trick,’ answered the laughing little man, as if that explained everything.

  At sundown, Suli returned. He sat down next to Borric and said, ‘Master, it took a while, but at last did I find such a one as you required. I gave him a coin and said as I was instructed. That one asked many questions, but I only repeated what you said, and refused more. He bid me wait for him and vanished. With much fear I waited, but when he returned all was well. He said those you wish to speak with will meet us and named the time and place.’

  ‘Where and when?’ asked Ghuda.

  To Borric, Suli said, ‘The time is the second ringing of the watch-bell after sundown. The place is but a short walk from here. I know it because he made me repeat the directions several times. But we must go to the market and find it from there, for I would not tell this beggar where we were staying.’

  ‘Good,’ said Borric. ‘We’ve been here too long as it is. Let’s go.’

  They rose and left, following Suli to the nearest market square. Borric was again astonished at the press of humanity around him, and the diversity of it. If he felt foolish, no one took note of his impersonation of a Bendrifi. The array of costumes, and lack thereof, he saw in Farafra was even more varied in the Empire’s capital. The blackest skin Borric had ever seen gleamed in the late afternoon sun as lion hunters of the grassy plains walked by, and yet there were enough fair-skinned people to show that those who once lived in the Kingdom had come to Kesh over the years. Many had the narrow eyes and yellowish skin that Nakor possessed, but their dress was in different fashion than the Isalani: some wearing silk jackets and knee breeches, others wearing armour, and still others in simple monk’s robes. Women in all states of dress, from the most modest to almost naked passed by, and few took notice, unless the woman was unusually striking.

  A pair of Ashuntai plainsmen sauntered by, each leading a pair of women on chains; the women were nude and walked with eyes downcast. A company of brawny-looking men with red and blond hair, wearing furs and armour despite the heat, passed them by, and insults were exchanged.

  Borric turned to Ghuda and said, ‘What was that?’

  ‘Brijaners – seamen from Brijane, and the towns along the shore below the Grimstone Mountains. They’re raiders and traders who ply the Great Sea from Kesh to the Eastern Kingdoms in their long ships – and even across the Endless Sea – so the stories claim. They are proud, violent men, and they worship the spirits of their dead mothers. All Brijaner women are seers and priestesses, and the men believe their ghosts come to guide their ships and therefore hold all women sacred. The Ashuntai treat women worse than dogs. If it wasn’t for the Empress’s peace seal being on the city, they’d be trying to kill one another on sight.’

  Borric said, ‘Wonderful. Are their many such feuds in Kesh?’

  Ghuda said, ‘No more than usual. About a hundred such, give or take a few, on any given festival. That’s why the Palace Guards and the Inner Legion are here in strength. The Legion has dominion over the Inner Empire, all that surrounds the Overn, inside the ring of mountains formed by the Mother of Waters, Spires of Light, Guardians, and Grimstones. Outside of that, local lords run things. Only on the Imperial highways and at these sort of festivals is peace enforced. At other times—’ he made a ‘wipe clean’ motion with his hand ‘—one side or the other is dogmeat.’

  Kesh was a wonder to Borric. The throng in the streets was both familiar and alien. So much of what a city is was familiar to him, but this city was overlaid with ages of an alien culture.

  When they entered the market, Borric said, ‘This is pretty impressive.’

  Ghuda snorted. ‘This is a local market, Madman. The big one is across from the amphitheatre. That’s where most travellers will go.’

  Borric shook his head. Glancing around, he said to Suli, ‘When should we leave?’

  ‘We have a while, master.’ As he spoke, a dozen chimes and gongs around the city rang, as the sun vanished over the horizon. ‘The second bell, so it will be an hour.’

  ‘Well, then, let’s find something
to eat.’

  They agreed on that, and set off in search of a street vendor whose wares weren’t too costly.

  As the second bell of night sounded, they entered the alley. ‘This way, master,’ said Suli, keeping his voice low.

  Despite the early hour of the night, the alley was deserted. The narrow corridor was cluttered with trash and garbage, and the stench was overwhelming. Trying to keep the greasy meat and flatbread he had eaten down, Borric said, ‘A friend once told me that thieves will often put garbage and,’ stepping on what appeared to be a dead dog, Borric continued, ‘other things along their private escape routes to discourage casual inspection.’

  At the end of the alley was a door, wooden with a metal lock plate. Borric tried it and found it locked. Then from behind, a voice said, ‘Good evening.’

  Borric and Ghuda turned, and pushed Suli and Nakor behind them. A half-dozen armed men were approaching them down the alley. Ghuda hissed. ‘I have a very bad feeling, Madman!’

  Borric said, ‘Good evening. Are you the one I arranged to meet?’

  ‘That depends,’ answered the leader, a thin man with a grin too big for his face. His cheeks were heavily pockmarked, to the point of the disfigurement being apparent in the dim light in the alley. The others behind him were shadowy silhouettes. ‘What is your proposal?’

  ‘I need entrance into the palace.’

  Several men laughed. ‘That is easy,’ said the leader. ‘Get arrested and they will take you before the High Tribune, assuming you break an Imperial law. Murder a guard, that always works.’

  ‘I need to get in unseen.’

  ‘Impossible. Besides, why should we help? You may be Imperial agents for all we know. You do not speak like a Bendrifi, despite your dress. The city has been crawling with agents looking for someone, so you may be him. In any event,’ he said, drawing a longsword, ‘you have about ten seconds to explain why we shouldn’t just kill you and take your gold now.’

  Borric said, ‘For one thing, I can promise you a thousand golden ecu if you tell us of an entrance, twice that if you take us there.’

  The leader motioned with his blade, and his companions spread out, forming a wall of swords across the alley. ‘And?’

  ‘And I bring greetings from the Upright Man of Krondor.’

  The leader paused a moment, then said, ‘Impressive.’

  Borric let out a breath of tension, then the leader of the thieves said, ‘Very impressive. For the Upright Man has been seven years dead in Krondor and the Mockers are now ruled by the Virtuous Man. Your introduction is less than timely, spy.’ To his men, he said, ‘Kill them.’

  The alley was too narrow to allow Ghuda to draw his bastard sword, so he pulled both dirks as Borric unsheathed his rapier and Suli his shortsword. Forming a three-man front, Borric took a second to say to Nakor, ‘Can you open that lock?’

  The Isalani said, ‘It will take but a moment,’ and the attackers were full upon them.

  Borric’s sword took the first man in the throat, as Ghuda was forced to use his two dirks to parry his attacker’s longer sword. Suli had never used a sword before, but he flailed about with enough conviction that the man opposite him was reluctant to try to get past the blurring weapon.

  The attackers fell back a step at the death of one of their number. They were reluctant to rush Borric’s sword point again. The cluttered alley gave no one an advantage, save time. The attackers could hang back and let Borric’s party tire then take them, for they had no place else to go, so the thieves were content to feint and withdraw, feint and withdraw.

  Nakor rummaged through his rucksack and found what he was looking for. Borric glanced over his shoulder for an instant, to see the Isalani pry the lid off a flat jar. ‘What …?’ he began, then he was forced to pay the price of his inattention as a broadsword almost took his left arm off. He dodged and thrust, and a second attacker was out of the fight, this one with a ragged cut to his own right arm.

  Nakor poured a small pile of white powder in his left hand, then put the lid back on the jar. Kneeling before the lock plate, the diminutive man blew on the powder. Rather than scattering randomly, the powder left his hand in a thin line, straight to the keyhole on the lock plate. As the powder passed through the lock, a series of audible clicks could be heard. Nakor stood up with a satisfied smile, put away his jar, and opened the door. ‘We can go now,’ he calmly announced.

  Instantly, Ghuda shoved him unceremoniously through the door and followed after, as Borric launched a flurry of blows that drove back the thieves, allowing Suli to bolt through the door after the mercenary. Then Borric was through and Ghuda slammed the door behind him. Nakor held out a large, ornate chair, which Borric jammed against the door handle, barring the door for a moment.

  Borric turned and was suddenly aware of two facts: the first was a nearly nude girl regarded him with eyes years older than the rest of her, from where she sat outside a door, waiting the bidding of whoever was inside that door. The second was the sweet smoke that hung in the air, unmistakable once smelled. It was opium, cut with other smells, jule weed, hashish, and sweet-smelling oils. They had broken into the back of a joy house.

  As Borric expected, the moment after they had broken in, three large men – the establishment’s resident bruisers – each armed with clubs in hand, knives, and swords at their belts, materialized in the hall. ‘What passes here, scum?’ shouted the first, his eyes wide in anticipation of a little free bloodletting. Borric was instantly convinced that whatever he said, the man’s intent was bloody.

  Borric pushed himself past Ghuda, shoving the mercenary’s dirk point down in clear message not to start trouble. Glancing over his shoulder, Borric said, ‘City watch! Trying to break in that door.’

  He slid past the first man, just as the thieves outside obliged by hitting the door, causing the chair to move a foot.

  ‘Those thieving bastards!’ said the first bruiser. ‘We’re paid up this month.’

  Borric gave the man a friendly shove toward the door saying, ‘The greedy scum are trying to shake you down for more.’ As the second bruiser sought to hold onto Borric, the Prince grabbed that man’s elbow and turned him after the first. ‘There’s ten of them out there, armed! They claim there’s a Jubilee surcharge you haven’t paid.’

  By now several clients of the establishment were opening doors and peeking into the halls to see what was happening. At sight of armed men, several doors were slammed, then one girl screamed, and the panic was on.

  The third bruiser said, ‘Wait a minute, you,’ to Borric and took a swipe with his club.

  Borric barely got his left arm up in time, and took the blow on his left bracer, but the shock still numbed his arm to the elbow. Thinking of nothing else to do, the Prince shouted, ‘Raid!’ at the top of his lungs, and every door in the hall flew open. The third bruiser tried to take another swipe at Borric, but Ghuda struck him behind the ear with the hilt of his dirk, stunning the man.

  Borric shoved the third bruiser hard into a fat merchant attempting to leave with his clothing in his hands, shouting at the merchant, ‘It’s the girl’s father! He’s come to kill you, man!’

  The merchant’s eyes widened in horror, and he dashed through the outside door, still nude and holding his robes in a bundle. A sleepy-looking woman easily in her forties stood in the door, saying, ‘My father?’

  At that moment, Suli shouted, ‘City watch!’ as loud as he could.

  Then the rear door flew open and the thieves barged in, collided with naked girls and boys, drugged men, and two very angry bruisers. The commotion in the hall was redoubled when another pair of large men appeared at the top of the hall, demanding to know what was going on. Borric shouted, ‘Religious fanatics! Trying to free your slave girls and boys. Your men are being attacked, back there. Help them!’

  Somehow, Ghuda, Suli, and Nakor extricated themselves from the confusion in the hall and bolted for the entry of the building. The nude merchant running down the street had p
iqued the curiosity of the city watch, and two armed guardians of the peace were standing before the door as Borric pulled it open. Without hesitation he said, ‘Oh, sirs! It’s horrible! The house slaves have revolted and are killing the customers. They’re crazed on drugs and their strength is superhuman. Please, you must send for help!’

  One guardsman pulled his sword and dashed inside, while another took a whistle from his belt and blew it. Within seconds of the shrill whistle sounding, ten more city guardsmen were hurrying to the riot and dashing through the door.

  Two blocks away, in a dark inn, Borric and his companions sat at a table. Ghuda took off his helm and almost bounced it off the table, so hard did he put it down. Pointing his finger at Borric, he said, ‘The only reason I don’t knock your head off now is that we’d certainly get arrested.’

  ‘Why do you keep wanting to hit me?’ said Borric.

  ‘Because you keep doing stupid things which threaten to get me killed, Madman!’

  Nakor said, ‘That was fun.’

  Ghuda and Borric both stared at him in astonishment. ‘Fun?’ said Ghuda.

  ‘Most excitement I’ve had in years,’ said the grinning man.

  Suli looked as if he was close to exhaustion. ‘Master, what do we do now?’

  Borric thought a moment, shook his head, and said, ‘I don’t know.’

  • CHAPTER FIFTEEN •

  Snares

  ERLAND APPROACHED THE DOOR.

  A dozen guards stood without, but none sought to question him about his approach to the Princess Sharana’s private quarters. At the entrance to the reception area, Erland discovered Lord Nirome, the noble who had acted as Master of Ceremonies when Prince Awari had greeted him at the entrance to the upper city.

  The stout man smiled affably as he bowed, and said, ‘Good evening. Your Highness. Is all here to your liking?’