Darkness at Sethanon

by Raymond E. Feist

  ‘It’s His Highness who forgets himself, my lords. And unless lese majesty’s been returned to the list of felonies of the Kingdom, I’ll speak my mind.’

  Arutha fixed the commander with a steady gaze. ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Not by half,’ snapped the commander. ‘Will you rescind this order?’

  Showing no emotion, Arutha said, ‘No.’

  The commander reached for his badge of rank and pulled it from his tunic. ‘Then find another to punish the city, Arutha conDoin. I’ll not do it.’

  ‘Fine.’ Arutha took the badge. He handed it to Captain Valdis and said, ‘Locate the senior watchman and promote him.’

  The now former commander said, ‘He’ll not do it, Highness. The watch is with me to a man.’ He leaned forward, knuckles on Arutha’s conference table, until his eyes were level with the Prince’s. ‘You’d better send in your army. My lads will have none of it. When this is over, it’ll be them who’ll be in the streets after dark, in twos and threes, trying to bring sanity back to a city gone mad and hateful. You brought this on; you deal with it.’

  Arutha spoke evenly. ‘That will be all. You are dismissed.’ He said to Valdis, ‘Send detachments from the garrison and take command of the watch posts. Any watchman who wishes to stay employed is welcomed. Any who refuses this order is to be stripped of his tabard.’

  Biting back hot words, the commander stiffly turned and left the room. Jimmy shook his head and shot a worried glance at Laurie. The former minstrel would understand as well as the former thief what sort of trouble was brewing in the streets.

  For another week Krondor stagnated under martial law. Arutha turned a deaf ear to all requests to end the quarantine. By the end of the third week every man or woman who could not be properly identified was under arrest. Jimmy had communicated with agents of the Upright Man who assured Jimmy that the Mockers were conducting their own housecleaning. Six bodies had been found floating in the bay so far.

  Now Arutha and his advisers were ready to conduct the business of interrogating the captives. A large section of warehouses in the north end of the city near the Merchants Gate had been converted to jails. Arutha, surrounded by a company of grim-faced guards, looked over the first five prisoners brought forward.

  Jimmy stood off to one side and could hear a soldier mumble to another, ‘At this rate we’ll be here a year talking to all these lads.’

  For a while Jimmy watched as Arutha, Gardan, Volney, and Captain Valdis questioned prisoners. Many were obviously simple fellows caught up in some business they didn’t understand, or they were consummate actors. All looked filthy, ill fed, and half-frightened, half-defiant.

  Jimmy became restless and left the scene. At the edge of the crowd he discovered that Laurie had taken a seat on a bench outside an ale house. Jimmy joined the Duke of Salador, who said, ‘They’ve only some homemade left, and it’s not cheap, but it’s cool.’ He looked on while Arutha continued the interrogations under the summer sun.

  Jimmy wiped his forehead. ‘This is a sham. It accomplishes nothing.’

  ‘It lessens Arutha’s temper.’

  ‘I’ve never seen him like this. Not even when we were racing to Moraelin. He’s…’

  ‘He’s angry, frightened, and feeling helpless.’ Laurie shook his head. ‘I’ve learned a lot from Carline about my brothers-in-law. One thing about Arutha, if you don’t already know: being helpless is something he can’t abide. He’s walked into a blind alley and his temper won’t allow him to admit he’s facing a stone wall. Besides, if he lifts the seal on the city, the Nighthawks are free to come and go at will.’

  ‘So what? They’re in the city in any event, and no matter what Arutha thinks, there’s no guarantee they’re locked up. Maybe they’ve infiltrated the court staff the way they did the Mockers last year. Who knows?’ Jimmy sighed. ‘If Martin was here or maybe the King, we might have this business at an end.’

  Laurie drank, and grimaced at the bitter taste. ‘Maybe. You’ve named the only two men in the world he’s likely to listen to. Carline and I’ve tried to talk to him, but he just listens patiently, then says no. Even Gardan and Volney can’t budge him.’

  Jimmy watched the Prince’s interrogation for a little longer while three more groups of prisoners were brought out. ‘Well, some good’s come of this. Four men have been turned loose.’

  ‘And if they’re picked up by another patrol, they’ll be tossed into another lockup and it might be days before anyone gets around to checking out their claims to having been turned loose by the Prince. And the other sixteen have been returned to the lockup. All we can hope for is Arutha’s realizing soon that this will gain him nothing. The Festival of Banapis is less than two weeks off, and if the seal isn’t lifted by then, there’ll be a citywide riot.’ Laurie’s lips tightened in frustration. ‘Maybe if there was some magic way to tell who is a Nighthawk or not…’

  Jimmy sat up. ‘What?’

  ‘What what?’

  ‘What you just said. Why not?’

  Laurie turned slowly to face the squire. ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘I’m thinking it’s time to have a chat with Father Nathan. You coming?’

  Laurie put aside his mug of bitter beer and rose. ‘I’ve a horse tied up over there.’

  ‘We’ve ridden double before. Come along, Your Grace.’

  For the first time in days, Laurie chuckled.

  Nathan listened with his head tilted to one side while Jimmy finished his idea. The priest of Sung the White rubbed his chin a moment, looking more a former wrestler than a cleric, while he thought. ‘There are magic means of impelling someone to tell the truth, but they are time consuming and not always reliable. I doubt we’d find such means any more useful than those presently being employed.’ His tone revealed he didn’t think much of the means presently being employed.

  ‘What of the other temples?’ inquired Laurie.

  ‘They have means differing little from our own, small things in the way spells are constructed. The difficulties do not lessen.’

  Jimmy looked defeated. ‘I had hoped for some way to pluck the assassins from the mass wholesale. I guess it isn’t possible.’

  Nathan stood up behind the table in Arutha’s conference room, appropriated while the Prince was overseeing the questioning. ‘Only when a man dies and is taken into Lims-Kragma’s domain are all questions answered.’

  Jimmy’s expression clouded as a thought struck; then he brightened. ‘That could be it.’

  Laurie said, ‘What could be it? You can’t kill them all.’

  ‘No,’ said Jimmy, dismissing the absurdity of the remark. ‘Look, can you get that priest of Lims-Kragma, Julian, to come here?’

  Nathan remarked dryly, ‘You mean High Priest Julian of the Temple of Lims-Kragma? You forget he rose to supremacy when his predecessor was rendered mad by the attack in this palace.’ Nathan’s face betrayed a flicker of emotion, for the priest of Sung himself had defeated the undead servant of Murmandamus, at no little cost. Nathan was still plagued by nightmares from that event.

  ‘Oh,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘If I request, he may grant us an audience, but I doubt he’ll come running here just because I ask. I may be the Prince’s spiritual adviser, but in temple rank I am simply a priest of modest achievements.’

  ‘Well then see if he will see us. I think if he’ll cooperate, we might find an end to all this madness in Krondor. But I’ll want to have the Temple of Lims-Kragma’s cooperation before I blab the idea to the Prince. He might not listen otherwise.’

  ‘I’ll send a message. It would be unusual for the temples to become involved in city business, but we’ve had closer relationships with each other and the officers of the Principality since the appearance of Murmandamus. Perhaps Julian will be kindly disposed to cooperate. I assume there’s a plan in this?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Laurie, ‘just what have you got up that voluminous sleeve of yours?’

  Jimmy cocked his head and g
rinned. ‘You’ll appreciate the theatre of it, Laurie. We’ll whip up some mummery and scare the truth out of the Nighthawks.’

  The Duke of Salador sat back and thought on what the boy had said; after a moment of consideration, his blond beard was slowly parted by a widening grin. Nathan exchanged glances with the two as understanding came and he, too, began to smile, then to chuckle. Seeming to think he forgot himself, the cleric of the Goddess of the One Path composed himself, but again broke into an ill-concealed fit of mirth.

  Of the major temples in Krondor, the one least visited by the populace was that devoted to the Goddess of Death, Lims-Kragma – though it was commonly held that the goddess sooner or later gathered all to her. It was usual to give votive offerings and a prayer for the recently departed, but only a few worshipped with regularity. In centuries past, the followers of the Death Goddess had practised bloody rites, including human sacrifice. Over the years these practices had moderated and the faithful of Lims-Kragma had entered the mainstream of society. Still, past fears died slowly. And even now enough bloody work was done in the Death Goddess’s name by fanatics to keep her temple tainted by a patina of horror for most common men. Now a band of such common men, with perhaps a few uncommon ones hidden among them, was being marched into that temple.

  Arutha stood silently by the entrance to the inner sanctum of the Temple of Lims-Kragma. Armed guards surrounded the antechamber while temple guards in the black and silver garb of their order filled the inner temple. Seven priests and priestesses stood arrayed in formal attire, as if for a high ceremony, under the supervision of the High Priest, Julian. At first the High Priest had been disinclined to participate in this charade, but as his predecessor had been driven past the brink of insanity by confronting the agent of Murmandamus, he was sympathetic to any attempts to balk that evil. Reluctantly he had agreed at the last.

  The prisoners were herded forward, toward the dark entrance. Most held back and had to be shoved by spear-wielding soldiers. The first band contained those judged most likely to be members of the brotherhood of assassins. Arutha had grudgingly agreed to this sham, but had insisted on having all suspected of being Nighthawks in the first batch to be ‘tested’, in case the deception was revealed and word leaked back to the other prisoners being held.

  When the reluctant prisoners were arraigned before the altar of the Goddess of Death, Julian intoned, ‘Let the trial commence.’ At once the attending priests, priestesses, and monks began a chant, one that carried a dark and chilling tone.

  Turning to the fifty or so men held by the silent temple guards, the High Priest said, ‘Upon the altar stone of death, no man may speak falsehood. For before She Who Waits, before the Drawer of Nets, before the Lover of Life, all men must swear to what they have done. Know then, men of Krondor, that among your number are those who have rejected our mistress, those who have enlisted in the ranks of darkness and who serve evil powers. They are men who are lost to the grace of death, to the final rest granted by Lims-Kragma. These men are despisers of all, holding only to their evil master’s will. Now they shall be separated from us. For each who lies upon the stone of the Goddess of Death will be tested, and each who speaks true will have nothing to fear. But those who have sworn dark compacts will be revealed and they shall face the wrath of She Who Waits.’

  The statue behind the altar, a jet stone likeness of a beautiful, stern-looking woman, began to glow, to pulse with strange blue-green lights. Jimmy was impressed, as he looked on with Laurie. The effect added a strong sense of drama to the moment.

  Julian motioned for the first prisoner to be brought forward and the man was half dragged to the altar. Three strong guards lifted him up onto the altar, used ages past for human sacrifice, and Julian pulled a black dagger from his sleeve. Holding it over the man’s chest, Julian asked simply, ‘Do you serve Murmandamus?’

  The man barely croaked out a reply in the negative and Julian removed the dagger from over the man. ‘This man is free of guilt,’ intoned the priest. Jimmy and Laurie exchanged glances, for the man was one of Trevor Hull’s sailors, ragged and rough looking in the extreme, but above suspicion and, judging from the performance just given, not a mean actor. He had been planted to lend credibility to the proceedings, as had the second man, who was now being dragged to the altar. He sobbed piteously, yelling to be left alone, begging for mercy.

  Behind an upraised hand, Jimmy said, ‘He’s overdoing it.’

  Laurie whispered, ‘It doesn’t matter; the room stinks with fear.’

  Jimmy regarded the assembled prisoners, who stared with fascination at the proceedings while the second man was judged innocent of being an assassin. Now the guards grabbed the first man to be truly tested. He had the half-captivated look of a bird confronting a snake and was led quickly to the altar. When four other men were led without protest, Arutha crossed to stand next to Laurie and Jimmy. Shielding them from the gaze of the prisoners by turning his back on the proceedings, he whispered, ‘This isn’t going to work.’

  Jimmy said, ‘We may not have dragged a Nighthawk up there yet. Give it time. If everyone comes through the test, you still have them all under guard.’

  Suddenly a man near the front of the prisoners made a dash for the door, knocking aside two temple guards. At once Arutha’s guards at the door blocked his exit. The man hurled himself at them, forcing the guards back. In the scramble he reached for a dagger and attempted to strip it from a guard’s belt. His hand was struck, and the dagger skittered freely across the floor, while another guard smashed him across the face with the haft of a spear. The man dropped to the stone floor.

  Jimmy, like the others, was intent upon the attempt to restrain the man. Then, as if time slowed, he saw another prisoner calmly bend over and pick up the dagger. With cool purpose the man stood, turned, reversed the dagger, and held the blade between thumb and forefinger. He pulled back his arm, and, as Jimmy’s mouth opened to shout a warning, he threw the dagger.

  Jimmy sprang forward to knock Arutha aside, but he was a moment too late. The dagger struck. A priest cried, ‘Blasphemy!’ at the attack. Then all looked toward the Prince. Arutha staggered, his eyes widening with astonishment as he stared down at the blade protruding from his chest. Laurie and Jimmy both caught his arms, holding him up. Arutha looked at Jimmy, his mouth moving silently as if trying to speak were the most difficult task imaginable. Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped forward, still held up by Laurie and Jimmy.

  Jimmy sat quietly while Roald paced the room. Carline sat opposite the boy, lost in her own thoughts. They waited outside Arutha’s bedchamber while Father Nathan and the royal chirurgeon worked feverishly to save Arutha’s life. Nathan had showed no regard for rank as he had ordered everyone out of Arutha’s room, refusing even to let Carline glimpse her brother. At first Jimmy had judged the wound serious but not fatal. He had seen men survive worse, but now the time was dragging on and the young man began to fret. By now Arutha should have been resting quietly, but there had been no word from within his chambers. Jimmy feared this meant complications.

  He closed his eyes and rubbed at them a moment, sighing aloud. Again he had acted, but too late to stave off disaster. Fighting back his own feelings of guilt, he was startled when a voice next to him said, ‘Don’t blame yourself.’

  He looked to find Carline had moved to sit beside him. With a faint smile he said, ‘Reading minds, Duchess?’

  She shook her head, fighting back tears. ‘No. I just remembered how hard you took it when Anita was injured.’

  Jimmy could only nod. Laurie came in and crossed to the door of the bedchamber to speak quietly to the guard. The guard quickly entered and returned a moment later, whispering an answer. Laurie went over to his wife, kissed her lightly on the cheek, and said, ‘I’ve dispatched riders to fetch Anita back and lifted the quarantine.’ As senior noble in the city, Laurie had assumed a position of authority, working with Volney and Gardan to restore order to a city in turmoil. While the cris
is was likely over, certain restraints were kept in force, to prevent any backlash from angry citizens. Curfew would stay in effect for a few more days, and large gatherings would be dispersed.

  Laurie spoke softly. ‘I’ve more duties to discharge. I’ll be back shortly.’ He rose and left the antechamber. Time dragged on.

  Jimmy remained lost in thought. In the short time he had been with the Prince his world had changed radically. From street boy and thief to squire had entailed a complete shift in attitudes toward others, though some vestige of his former wariness had stood him in good stead when dealing with court intrigue. Still, the Prince and his family and friends had become the only people in Jimmy’s life who meant something to the boy, and he feared for them. His disquiet had grown in proportion to the passing hours and now bordered on alarm. The ministrations of the chirurgeon and the priest were taking far too long. Jimmy knew something was very wrong.

  Then the door opened and a guard was motioned inside. He appeared a moment later, hurrying down the hall. In short order, Laurie, Gardan, Valdis, and Volney were back before the door. Without taking her eyes from the closed portal, Carline reached out and clutched at Jimmy’s hand. Jimmy glanced over and was startled to see her eyes brimming with tears. With dread certainty, the young man knew what was happening.

  The door opened and a white-faced Nathan appeared. He looked around the room and began to speak, but halted, as if the words were too difficult to utter. At last he simply said, ‘He’s dead.’

  Jimmy couldn’t contain himself. He sprang from the bench and pushed past those before the door, not recognizing his own voice crying, ‘No!’ The guards were too startled to react as the young squire forced his way into Arutha’s chamber. There he halted, for upon the bed was the unmistakable form of the Prince. Jimmy hurried to his side and studied the still features. He reached out to touch the Prince, but his hand halted scant inches from Arutha’s face. Jimmy didn’t need to touch him to know without doubt that the man on the bed, whose features were so familiar, was indeed dead. Jimmy lowered his head to the bed quilting, hiding his eyes as he began to weep.