‘Be quiet!’ Flora hissed. ‘Go and think about it while I clean Lorrie up.’
Thus dismissed, Jimmy sat looking out of the window. Why am I suddenly a villain? he thought, reminding himself not to pout. I already rescued her! Twice!
After what seemed like a very long time—and one or two small, smothered sounds of pain, somehow more disturbing than the many he’d heard before—Flora said, ‘You can turn around now.’
‘Look,’ he said, noting how pale both girls were, ‘I’m not trying to be mean-spirited. It’s just that . . .’
‘That you’d rather not get involved any further,’ Flora finished for him.
He raised a protesting finger. ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You don’t have to,’ she said scornfully. ‘I know you, Jimmy. But . . .’
Flora stopped and sighed, letting her shoulders droop. ‘Helping Lorrie’s not something you would have done in Krondor. I can’t help but be disappointed; I thought you’d changed.’
Jimmy raised one eyebrow and tightened a corner of his mouth. He most certainly would have helped Lorrie, even in Krondor. But that wasn’t something that Flora would know; she’d never met the Princess and knew nothing about his feelings for her. And maybe it wasn’t something he wanted her to know. He glanced at Lorrie, who really did look very much like the Princess Anita, even to the haunted look the Princess had worn when thinking about her imprisoned father.
Lorrie’s eyes shifted and met his. As he watched one crystal tear rolled silently down her cheek. Jimmy heaved a sigh. He was undone: there was no way he could walk away from those eyes and not feel less of a man.
‘All right, I’ll try,’ he said. He rose, every move speaking his reluctance. ‘I’m not making any promises, and I don’t know when I’ll be back.’ To Flora he said, ‘You’ll have to come up with a story to tell your aunt about why I’m gone.’
‘I’ll tell her you’re travelling for a bit . . .’
‘Tell her it’s an employment opportunity. Apprentice to a trader or something. Be vague; I didn’t tell you details—I’ll have a completely cooked-up story when I get back.’
Flora nodded. ‘I think they’re moving northeast along the coast road,’ Lorrie said. ‘Try going that way first. And be careful. Those two killed my mother and father and Emmet handily enough and none of them were soft or weak. You watch yourself.’
‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘I will.’ He looked at Flora who was rolling up a bandage looking proud enough to pop. ‘Give my regards to your aunt, in case this takes a while.’
She was up and giving him a fierce hug before he could say anything else. Then she released him and gave him a little push.
‘Go on then, and be careful.’ She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, looking grave. ‘You know where to find me.’
Jimmy smiled at her and shook his head. She was changing so fast he hardly knew her. Then he turned away and climbed out of the window. First thing he should do, probably, would be to get a horse.
‘No,’ the innkeeper said indifferently. ‘Left just after dawn, they did. Same as always.’
Jarvis Coe dropped a couple of coins on the bar. Surprising, he thought. From the way they were talking yesterday, I’d be expecting them to drink a long breakfast. Low-priced thugs rarely had much discipline or sense of purpose. If they did, they’d be in another line of work . . . or charging higher prices, at least.
The innkeeper ignored the copper, polishing around it. His eyebrow twitched when silver rang beside the duller metal.
‘Which road did they take?’
The coins vanished into the innkeeper’s big hand. ‘North on the coast road, same as always.’
You couldn’t rent a horse at a stable, but you could buy one with the understanding that eventually the stable-owner would buy it back. Coe walked briskly through the North Gate, cursing the delay; it was a mildly warm late-season day, perfect for travelling—for his quarry, too, worse luck. Even then his trained eye caught details—the casual way the guards leaned on their spears and halberds, offset by the relaxed alertness of their captain’s eyes; and the state of their gear, which was worn but serviceable. From everything he heard, the lord of Land’s End had taken an unusual position on the care of his barony’s main town; he had garrisoned the bulk of his army—some two hundred men-at-arms—in the old fortification on the edge of the city, and had kept only a small honour-guard in his household estates many miles away. But he had no heir, so perhaps he felt the safety of the citizens outweighed his own.
Administration seemed to be left to the one royal magistrate in the district, the leaders of the town’s guilds and the harbourmaster. It was probably a fair enough system as long as war didn’t break out, or the Duke call up a levy. But the local garrison had come to neglect the countryside: there was not even so much as a regular patrol between the old castle and the Baron’s country estates up the coast.
That had left the countryside in disarray. It didn’t take much by way of neglect for bandits to move in. Or for a dozen local bullies to decide they’d rather rape women and steal sheep than work. And the local constable had neither the time nor resources to really enforce the law, short of a baronial order or a writ from the magistrate.
Coe reflected on this odd state of affairs as he walked through the gate. Land’s End was still more of a large town than a small city, comprised of the usual gaggle of trades and workshops impractical or illegal inside a walled city, so no true foulbourg had been allowed to spring up outside the walls, but a thriving open market had been established beyond the clearing under the wall. He headed for the unmistakable smell of a dealer in horses, and slowed as he drew near.
‘Master Jimmy!’ he said. ‘This is a pleasant surprise. How’s your young foster-sister?’
If Jimmy was equally surprised he made a masterful job of hiding it. In fact, his dark eyes were level, coolly considering, beyond his years, even if he had grown up rough and quickly, which Coe would wager he had.
Looking him up and down, Coe revisited a judgment he had formed aboard ship about Jimmy: barely a boy, well short of fifteen summers. But a very unusual and gifted boy. Inside that egg of boyhood is a man tapping at the shell, and a dangerous one, too, from all appearances. Curly brown hair—badly cut, likely with a knife—contrasted with carefully respectable but not showy tunic and trousers; Coe suspected that the boots hadn’t acquired their wear on Jimmy’s feet.
But here was the thing, Coe thought, he carries himself without a trace of adolescent awkwardness. He moves like an acrobat, as fluid as a cat sensing everything around him; he has the trick of avoiding people without needing to watch for them, deftly slipping through crowds without jostling them. Coe smiled. Perhaps that wasn’t entirely true, but should Jimmy bump into someone on the street, Coe suspected it would be intentional.
The sword at his side was enough to catch the interest: it was a tall man’s blade, far too richly hilted for the part the boy was playing, of someone on the ragged edge of gentility. But Coe suspected that the blade was of equal quality to the guard and scabbard, which would make it worth the rent of a dozen farms. And more to the point of how it had come into his hands, the boy could use it with enough skill to make challenging him a very hazardous choice. Even now, a wise man will be careful This one is quick as a ferret, I’ll wager, and would give as little warning when he went for the throat.
‘Flora? She’s making Aunt Cleora very happy,’ Jimmy said. ‘Nice to see you again, sir.’
‘And you, my lad. Are you looking for work as a stablehand?’
‘Gods no, sir!’ Jimmy grinned. ‘I know nothing of horses. But I’ve got to take the coast road a way and I guess I’ll need one.’
‘In which direction?’ Coe asked.
Jimmy gave him a suspicious look. ‘Uh, north, east.’ He shrugged.
‘The very way that I’m going,’ Jarvis said cheerfully. ‘Why don’t we ride together?’
Without waiting for an answer, he called to t
he stable-master to saddle another mount and before Jimmy could object, tossed a gold coin to the man, saying, ‘We’ll wish to sell them back when we return.’
Catching the coin, the stable-master said, ‘If you bring them back sound, I’ll buy them.’
Turning to look at Jimmy, Coe smiled and said, ‘There. It’s done.’
If the boy resented such highhandedness, he hid it well. All he said was: ‘I’m not experienced.’
‘Make it a gentle one,’ Coe called to the stable-master.
‘I don’t want to hold you up, sir,’ Jimmy said.
‘I’m sure you won’t, Jimmy. I’m not planning to gallop—like a man, a horse can walk further than it can run. Do you have any supplies?’ Or anything more than the clothes on your back, that absurdly grand blade, and a suspiciously large amount of hard cash?
‘Uh, no. I thought I’d arrange a horse, then buy what I need in the market,’ Jimmy said. ‘As I said, sir, I don’t want to delay you.’
‘Not at all, not at all,’ Jarvis said, giving the lad a hearty slap on the back. ‘And as I said, I’m in no mad rush. Where are you bound?’
There was something about the boy that didn’t ring true. He couldn’t put his finger on it. But he and his so-called foster-sister, young as they were, struck him as rather more experienced and less benign than they were trying to seem. He was intrigued and wanted to know more. I always do. It’s one thing that makes me good at my job, he thought with flat realism. And it was something of a bonus that he could indulge his curiosity without going out of his way. This time. On other occasions, that curiosity had led him into situations in which someone ended up dead.
Still smarting from that hearty slap, Jimmy grinned falsely. He would probably be wise to get away from this fellow. Generally he didn’t trust back-slappers, thinking them bullies who didn’t quite dare to show it. But bullies took things from you and yet Coe was falling over himself in his eagerness to be helpful. It was disconcerting.
‘I’m just catching up with some friends,’ he said. ‘They left at dawn.’
‘Ah,’ said Coe, his interest visibly sharpening. ‘I wonder if I know them. I, too, am late in following a pair of fellows I must speak with. We’ll share my supplies, my young friend.’ The stableman brought the two horses over, saddled and ready. ‘Mount up.’
I’m in his debt now, Jimmy thought. And look to be more so. I hate debts, but it’s stupid to turn down help when you need it. What do I know of chasing men through field and wood? Alleys and sewers and even Radburn’s dungeons he could manage. In the countryside he’d be as lost as . . . well, as Lorrie had been here in town, where even a complete stranger like Jimmy could land on his feet.
Jimmy considered the situation. I could simply run away, but that would attract attention. Besides, you’re never out of options until you’re dead, he thought. He could take the chance of travelling with Coe and see what happened. If things looked dicey he could stop somewhere with people in sight and say they were his friends. Or, if worst came to worst, he could make for the woods and hide. He was good at hiding and climbing.
How much harder could it be to hide in a thicket of trees than in an alley?
He was suspicious of the man, but then again, suspicion was his response to every new face. Coe had helped him, with the wristband that had stopped Jimmy’s seasickness, and had given them good advice on where to stay in Land’s End. One of the things he’d learned in last night’s ramble was that The Cockerel was indeed as bad a place as any in Krondor. He and Flora hadn’t needed the warning, but Jarvis Coe wouldn’t know that. In fact, the man had nothing to gain from either act, because he had no reason to expect to ever see Jimmy again.
And I’m curious about him. Curiosity is one of the very things that makes me a good thief and, damnit, it’ll make this chase after Lorrie’s little brother less boring. After all, he’d been wondering what he would do if he did catch up with the kidnappers.
Well he’d told himself, I’m a thief. I’ll steal the boy back.
But that was bravado and he knew it. One of the things Jimmy was learning of late was that he really couldn’t do everything he imagined, just most of it. Facing one hardened man with sword in hand was worrisome. Facing two, well, that was just plain stupid. If he could enlist Coe then maybe he might actually stand a chance of saving Rip.
There was something about the man that didn’t quite ring true, but Jimmy’s instincts told him that Coe was all right. Secretive, perhaps, even hiding his true reasons as much as Jimmy was, but not bad. Living as he had in Krondor, bad was something the young thief could sense without thinking and nine times out of ten, he’d be right. His bump of trouble just didn’t react to Coe.
What really worried him was who Jarvis Coe was trying to catch up with. For a brief instant Jimmy considered that he might be a colleague of the two who had kidnapped Rip. Then he shoved the thought aside: had that been the case, Jimmy’s bump of trouble would be positively throbbing.
The stableman cleared his throat; Coe was looking at him with a cocked eyebrow.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Thinking.’
One of the stable’s lackeys linked his hands. Jimmy looked at them, then at the tall horse, and put his foot into them. Not that he needed a step up, but he’d observed that ordinary folk got a little disturbed when you exhibited excessive agility.
The stablehand was thick-armed. He also surprised Jimmy by the strength he employed giving him a leg up, almost tossing him right over the horse. Had the thief been less agile that’s exactly what would have happened. He glared at the man, who shrugged and grinned, almost looking disappointed.
Jarvis shook his head. ‘They’re all like that,’ he said to Jimmy. ‘Everyone thinks it’s fun to play practical jokes on a beginner.’
The fellow shrugged again, and showed strong yellow teeth much like those of his charges. ‘Life’s dull,’ he said, ‘y’have to make your entertainment when ye can.’
Jimmy glared at him. ‘Do you like gratuities?’ he asked, pulling a silver piece out of his belt.
‘Huh?’ asked the lackey.
Switching to street vernacular, Jimmy said, ‘You like tips?’
The man’s grin broadened. ‘Certs!’
Putting the coin away, Jimmy said, ‘Then find your entertainment somewhere else.’
Coe laughed. ‘Let’s go,’ he said and turned his horse.
But Jimmy could tell, even before they left the yard, that his horse had a sense of humour much like the lackey.
Suddenly, he thought, everyone I meet is a character. Gods, when will I be able to go home to Krondor? By the time they passed the last booth at the edge of the market, his arse was already sore. It can’t be soon enough, he thought.
They still weren’t out of traffic—everything from a herd of sheep being driven in toward town, to wagons heading out, and more pedestrians trudging along beside the dusty white ribbon of highway that snaked off to the north; a faint hint of the ocean came on the breeze, and the occasional trees showed the direction of the prevailing wind by the way they leaned to the right. Dust got into his teeth, kicked up by feet and hooves and wheels. The deep ruts showed that mud was probably worse.
Jimmy coughed and shifted uncomfortably and the horse decided that meant it should take off at a trot, and nothing he could do or say thereafter would change its mind. Coe came up beside him, obviously trying not to laugh. ‘Sit back,’ he said. ‘Don’t yank on the reins, as that will only irritate it. Tug once as you sit back, then release the pressure. If it doesn’t stop, tug again.’
Jimmy sat back, shifting his weight to the rear of the saddle.
The horse hesitated, as if uncertain what its rider wanted, but after a couple of steps, it slowed, then stopped.
Coe’s horse made as if to nip it and Coe handily yanked the beast’s head away.
Jimmy gasped out: ‘Thank you.’ It’s stupid to be afraid of falling off this thing! he thought, rubbing at a rib where the hilt of his sword h
ad thumped him painfully. I’ve jumped down from far higher roofs!
‘You really don’t know how to ride, do you?’ Coe said.
The young thief shook his head. ‘I’ve never left Krondor before,’ he said. ‘And there I had no need of riding.’ He made a wry face. ‘I’ve seen it done often enough and it looked so easy. I was sure I could manage it.’
Coe gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh. ‘Well, for starters, you see that loop in front of your left knee? You can slide the scabbard of your sword through it. Until you’ve ridden a little more, having it loose at your side can be dangerous.’
Jimmy slid Prince Arutha’s gift from his belt-sling and through the loop and the sheath settled firmly.
‘Riding’s more like dancing than just sitting down on the animal. You’re quick and strong, though, it shouldn’t be too hard. Just remember that the horse’s back is going up and down whenever it’s moving. The faster it goes, the faster the movement. That’s why you grip—so you don’t bounce up and down even harder. Use your knees like springs—as if you were jumping down from a height . . .’
All right, I’ll try that, Jimmy thought: he was reminded of the way Prince Arutha had shown him the sword. He was immediately aware that the mare was more relaxed. Which makes one of us, he thought bitterly.
‘Now remember that the horse can feel what you want it to do. If you squeeze tighter with your thighs and lean forward, it knows you want to go faster. If you lean back, it knows you want to stop. Try turning it by pressing one knee, touching the rein to the same side of its neck, and leaning a little forward and in the way you want to go—just a little, more a matter of shifting your balance than moving—you only pull on the bit when you need to shout. Right, that’s good. Now—’
‘This is pretty tiring,’ Jimmy said after a few minutes.
‘That’s probably because you’re too tense,’ Coe said. ‘And you’re using muscles you haven’t used before. Don’t worry, it gets easier with experience.’
Jimmy the Hand Page 21
