Shards of a Broken Crown
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Dash nodded, dismounted, and tied his horse to the branch of a small birch tree. Jimmy did likewise and moved silently away.
Dash moved through the thinning trees, bordering 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 44
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a burned-out farm, he judged from the appearance of tree stumps nearby. The sound resolved itself into a repeated hammering at ice.
Dash saw a man in the distance.
A slender figure, he crouched over the frozen ice on a large pond, perhaps a hundred yards away from where Dash watched, hammering at the ice with a rock. Up and down the rock moved, and Dash couldn’t help but be fascinated with the sight.
Dash couldn’t get a good look at the man, but his clothing seemed a hodgepodge of rags and ill-matched garments. He might have worn boots, but all Dash could see was a collection of rags tied around each foot for warmth.
Dash saw movement in the woods beyond the pond and judged Jimmy was in place. He waited.
Jimmy walked slowly out of the woods and the man leaped to his feet with astonishing speed. He turned away as Jimmy shouted, “Wait! I won’t hurt you!”
Dash slowly took out his sword as the tatters-clad man hurried toward him, trying to keep his movement from alerting the ragged man. As the man reached the first line of trees, Dash stepped out, extending his foot, and tripped him.
The man went down in a tangle of clothes and turned over, scuttling backward as he shouted,
“Don’t kill me!”
Dash moved quickly to put the point of his sword before the man’s face, as Jimmy caught up, out of breath.
Dash said, “We’re not going to hurt you.” To demonstrate his good intentions, he quickly sheathed his sword. “Get up.”
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The man got up slowly as Jimmy leaned over, hands on knees, and said, “He’s fast.”
Dash grinned. “You’d have caught him had you had another mile or so to overtake him. You’ve always had endurance, if not speed.” Turning his attention to the figure on the ground, he said, “Who are you and what were you doing?”
The man slowly rose, as if ready to bolt at the slightest threat, and said, “I am called Malar Enares, young masters.” He was a slender man, with a hawk nose sticking out over a large rag wrapped around his face. His eyes were dark, and they shifted back and forth between the brothers. “I was fishing.”
Jimmy and Dash exchanged glances, and Dash said, “With a rock?”
“To break the ice, young sir. Then when the fish comes up to sun himself, I would strip bark and make a noose.”
Jimmy said, “You were going to snare a fish?”
“It is easy if you but have patience and a steady hand, young sir.”
Dash said, “I hear Kesh in your speech.”
“Oh, no, mercy, young sir. I am but a humble servant of a great trader of Shamata, Kiran Hessen.”
Jimmy and Dash had both heard the name. A trader with Keshian connections who did a great deal of business with the late Jacob Esterbrook. Since the destruction of Krondor, the boys’ father, Lord Arutha, had pieced together several accounts that had clearly indicated two facts, that Esterbrook had been a long-standing agent of Great Kesh, and that he and his daughter were both dead. Jimmy could see what Dash was thinking: if Esterbrook had been a Keshian agent, so then could Kiran Hessen.
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“Where is your master now?” asked James.
“Oh, dead I fear,” said the thin man with a display of regret. “Fourteen years was I his servant, and he a generous master. Now I am alone in this cold place.”
James said, “Well, why don’t you tell us this story.”
“And show us how you planned on catching those fish,” said Dash.
“If I might have some hair from your horses’
manes,” said the ragged man. “Then it would be so much easier.”
“Horses?” asked Dash.
“Two young noblemen such as yourselves didn’t walk into this forsaken wilderness, I am certain,”
supplied Malar. “And I heard one of them snorting a moment again.” He pointed. “That way.”
Jimmy nodded. “That’s fair.”
“What do you need hair from their manes for?”
asked Dash.
“Let me show you.”
He walked toward the place where Dash’s horse had been tied, and said, “The ice was almost broken when you startled me, young sir. If you would but use the hilt of your sword to break it open, that would be a great service.”
Jimmy nodded and started back toward the icy pond.
Dash asked, “Now, about how you came to be lost in this forsaken wilderness.”
“As you are no doubt aware,” began Malar, “there was much trouble between Kesh and the Kingdom lately, with Shamata for a time being deeded to the Empire.”
“So we had heard,” said Dash.
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“My master, being of Kingdom allegiance, decided it wise to visit his holdings in the North, first in Landreth, then Krondor.
“We were traveling to Krondor when we encountered the invaders. We were overtaken and my master and most of his other servants were put to the sword. I and a few others managed to flee into the hills, south of here.” He pointed southward with his chin, as he reached Dash’s horse. Malar reached up and gripped a few hairs from the horse’s mane, yanking expertly, and came away with several long strands of hair. The horse moved at the unexpected pressure, snorting displeasure. Dash reached out and took the reins from the tree branch where they were tied, and Malar yanked out some more hairs. He repeated the procedure twice more. “That is sufficient,” he observed.
“So you’ve been in these hills how long?”
“More than three months, young sir,” said Malar, as he started deftly weaving the hair into a braid. “It has been a bitter time. Some of my companions died from hunger and cold, and two were captured by a band of men—outlaws or invaders, I do not know which. I have been alone for all of three weeks or so, I judge.” He sounded apologetic as he said, “It is difficult to keep track of time.”
“You’ve survived in these woods for three weeks with nothing but your bare hands?” asked Dash.
Malar started walking toward the pond, continuing to weave the horse hair. “Yes, and a terrible thing it has been, sir.”
“How?” asked Dash.
“As a boy I was raised in the hills above Landreth, to the north of the Vale of Dreams. Not as hostile a 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 48
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land as this, but still a place where the unwary can perish easily. My father was a woodsman, who put food on your table with bow and snare, as well as gold in his pouch from guiding men through the hills.”
Dash laughed. “He guided smugglers.”
“Perhaps,” said Malar with a broad shrug. “In any event, while the winters in the hills near my home are nowhere near as inhospitable as here, still a man must have skills to survive.”
Malar moved slowly as he approached the hole.
He glanced skyward to see the angle of the sun, then moved to face it. “Do not let your shadow cross the hole,” he instructed.
Dash and Jimmy followed behind. The man from the Vale of Dreams slowly knelt and said, “Fish, I have been taught, see movement, so we must move ever so slowly.”
Dash said, “This I must see.”
Jimmy nodded.
Malar said, “The sun shines through the hole in the ice, and the fish swims up to feel the warmth.”
Jimmy looked over the man’s shoulder and saw a large brook trout lazily circling the hole. Moving slowly, Malar inserted the noose of horsehair into the water, beh
ind the fish. The trout ceased moving for a moment, but Malar resisted the urge to move quickly, instead inching the snare toward the fish’s tail.
After another long minute, the fish darted away, and Malar said, “Another will come. They see the light and think insects may land upon the surface.”
After a silent five minutes, a trout appeared near the edge of the hole. Dash couldn’t tell if it was the same fish or a different one. Malar again started 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 49
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moving the noose slowly and got it around the fish’s tail. With a jerk, he snared the trout and yanked it out of the hole, landing it on the ice, where it flopped.
Dash couldn’t see the man’s face behind the rags that covered it, but the crinkles around his eyes showed Malar was smiling. “If one of you young gentlemen would be so kind as to light a fire, I will catch some more.”
Jimmy and Dash exchanged glances, then Jimmy shrugged. Dash said, “I’ll get some wood. You find a campsite.”
They hurried off while the strange man from the Vale of Dreams sought out another fish for supper.
For three days they moved slowly toward Krondor. Several times they had heard distant voices and the sound of men moving through the woodlands, but they had avoided contact with anyone.
Jimmy and Dash both found Malar an enigma.
He had surprising skills for wilderness survival, odd for one claiming to be the servant of a rich trader. On the other hand, Jimmy had confided to his brother, the servant of a rich smuggler might prove in need of such skills. Still, they were pleased to have him along, for he had found several shortcuts through the undergrowth, had identified edible plants that sup-plemented their stores, and had proven a reliable night sentry. As they were walking their horses, leading them more than half the time, his keeping up had proven to be no difficulty. Jimmy judged they were less than a week’s travel from Krondor.
At midday they heard horses in the distance, from the north. Jimmy spoke at a low conversational level.
“Duko’s men moving along the highway?”
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Dash nodded. “Probably. If we can hear them from here, we’ve headed back toward the highway.”
He turned to Malar. “Do you know of any southern route to Krondor?”
“Only the highway that loops around from Land’s End, young sir. But if we are nearing the King’s Highway, within a few days we should start encountering farms.”
Jimmy was silent for a long moment, then said,
“They’ll almost certainly be burned out.”
“But,” suggested Dash, “if they are, no one is likely to be living in them, and we might slip into the city unnoticed.”
“No farmers, you mean,” corrected Jimmy. “But they’d be decent shelter for some very unpleasant men with a fondness for weapons, I bet.”
Dash’s brow furrowed, as if thinking he should have thought of that, but a moment later, his grin returned and he said, “Well, then, we will just blend in. You’ve told me often enough how unpleasant I can be, and I am certainly fond of my weapons.”
Jimmy nodded. “Two more hired swords will scarcely be noticed. And if we can get close to the city, we’ll find a way inside. There are enough holes in the walls, that’s for certain.”
Malar said, “You’ve been to Krondor, then, young sir? Since the war, I mean.”
Jimmy ignored the question, saying, “We’ve heard of the damage.”
Dash agreed. “More than a few people left Krondor and came east.”
“This I know,” said Malar, falling silent.
They moved on through the woods for the rest of the day and made a cold camp that night. Huddled 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 51
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under their blankets, Jimmy and Dash stayed close together while Malar took the first watch. They slept fitfully, coming awake many times.
In the morning, they resumed their journey.
The woods were filled with the sounds of the thaw. In the distance the cracking of ice rang through the suddenly warm air as ponds and lakes began to lose their frozen skins. Large mounds of snow fell from trees in sudden, wet attacks on the travelers, while everywhere water dripped from branches. The footing beneath their feet alternated between crusty patches of ice and thick mud which gripped at boots and horses’ hooves. The constant noise was a back-drop against which the occasional sounds of spring could be heard. The distant call of a bird that had returned from the south early, seeking others of its kind. The faint rustle in the distance of small creatures coming out of their winter’s burrows stilled as they passed, only to resume after a while.
When they paused to rest, Jimmy tied his horse to a low tree branch and motioned for Dash to do likewise. Dash did as he was bid, and said, “Keep an eye out. We’re going to relieve ourselves.” He moved to where Jimmy stood, making a show of urinating into the snow.
Dash did likewise, whispering, “What is it?”
“Have you formed an opinion of our chance companion?” asked the older brother.
Dash shook his head slightly, saying, “Not really.
I’m certain he’s more than he claims, but I have no idea what.”
“There’s not a lot of fat on him,” said Jimmy, “but he doesn’t move like a man weak from hunger.”
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Dash said, “Do you have a theory?”
Jimmy said, “No. But if he’s not the servant of a rich trader, what’s he doing up here?”
“Smuggler?”
“Maybe,” answered Jimmy, doing up the front of his trousers. “Could be anything we could imagine.”
Remembering what their grandfather had cautioned them over the years about leaping to conclusions, Dash said, “Then we’d best not imagine anything.”
“Wait and see,” agreed Jimmy.
They returned to the horses, and Malar hurried off to relieve himself away from the trail. When he was out of hearing range, they continued. Jimmy asked, “Remember that abandoned farm a day’s walk this side of where we met Malar?”
“The one with half a thatch roof and the fallen-down cow shed?”
“That’s the one. If we bolt, and get separated, meet there.”
Dash nodded. Neither chose to discuss what to do should the other never appear.
Malar returned and they started off. The servant from the Vale of Dreams had been as closemouthed as the brothers. Part of the reason was the environment. The nights were still and even in the day noise carried. They knew they were approaching an area likely to be patrolled by the invaders; they were leading their horses rather than riding them, as, even in the woodlands, a rider presented a much higher profile in the distance than a man on foot or a horse.
Periodically they stopped to listen.
Rains came later that afternoon and they sought out what shelter they could, finding a hut of some 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 53
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sort, burned out, but with just enough thatch to give slight respite.
Sitting atop their saddles, hastily removed to get them out of the weather, they took stock.
“We’ve got another day’s grain, then we’re done,” said Dash, knowing his brother was just as aware of supplies as he.
Malar said, “Shouldn’t there be winter grass under the snow, sirs?”
Jimmy nodded. “Not much in it, but the horses will eat it.”
Dash said, “If there are horsemen in Krondor, they’ll have fodder.”
Jimmy said, “The difficulty will be in persuading them to share, brother.”
Dash grinned. “What’s life without a challenge or two?”
The rain stopped and they resumed their trek.
; Later that afternoon, Malar said, “Young sirs, I believe I hear something.”
All conversation ceased and the three stopped walking as they listened. The frigid days of winter had given way to a promise of spring, but it was still cold enough they could see their breath in the late afternoon air. After a moment of silence, Dash was about to speak when a voice echoed from ahead. It spoke a language neither brother recognized, but they knew it was the Yabonese-like tongue of the invaders.
Glancing around for a place to hide, Jimmy pointed and mouthed the word, There.
He indicated a large stand of brush that surrounded an outcropping of rocks. Dash wasn’t sure they could secret the horses behind it, but it was the only 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 54
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thing nearby that offered shelter from whoever came their way.
Malar hurried around the upthrust rocks and pulled aside a low branch, allowing Jimmy and Dash to lead their horses around to a relatively sheltered hiding place. In the distance horses could be heard.
Dash’s horse’s nostrils flared and her head came up. Jimmy said, “What?”
“This witchy mare is in heat,” whispered Dash as he tugged hard on her bridle. “Pay attention to me!”
he demanded.
Malar said, “You ride a mare?”
“She’s a good horse,” insisted Dash.
“Most of the time!” agreed Jimmy, hissing his words. “But not now!”
Dash tugged on the horse’s bridle, trying to focus her attention on himself. An experienced rider, Dash knew that if he could keep her attention, she might not call out to the horses that were approaching.
Jimmy’s gelding seemed relatively indifferent to the proceedings, though he did look on with some interest as the mare’s excited state built. Dash held tight to the mare’s bridle, rubbing her nose and speaking close to her ear in a reassuring fashion.
The riders came close and Dash judged there must be at least a dozen of them from the clatter.
Voices cut through the air and a man laughed. These were men who patrolled a familiar area and expected nothing out of the ordinary.
Dash held tight to the bridle and continued to speak softly to his mare as the horses came to the point of closest approach on the trail. Suddenly Dash’s horse pulled backwards and her head came up.