Shards of a Broken Crown

by Raymond E. Feist

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  Jimmy hugged the girl back. He then stepped back and regarded her. “You’re all grown up,” he said, admiring that fact. She was a tall girl, slender yet muscular in his embrace, as if she had spent a great deal of time outdoors in vigorous physical activity. Her face was lacking the usual cosmetics of the women of court; sun freckles lightly brushed her cheeks and nose. Her hair, usually a light brown, was lavishly streaked with blond highlights. She wore a very mannish vest and trousers, white shirt, and riding boots.

  “I was just coming back from an early morning ride with Father and saw you standing here. Let me go change and put on something more appropriate.

  Where can I find you?”

  As the Prince’s door opened, Jimmy said,

  “Wherever His Highness puts me, but most likely in the officers’ mess.”

  She nodded. “I’ll find you.” Kissing him lightly on the cheek, she dashed off, and Jimmy was forced to admire the way she moved.

  Owen, who had stood silently next to Jimmy throughout the exchange, said, “And that would be .

  . .?”

  “The Duke of Silden’s daughter, Francine. She used to play with Dash and me when we lived in Rillanon and business would bring Lord Brian to court. She’s Dash’s age, and last time I saw her she was just a skinny kid. She had a terrible crush on me for the longest time.”

  “Ah,” was all Owen said, as the Prince’s page appeared.

  The page saw Greylock, and said, “Marshal Greylock, His Highness will see you first.”

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  Owen motioned for Jimmy to follow him, and they entered Patrick’s quarters.

  The Prince remained seated behind his desk, clut-tered with papers and a small silver tray with hot rolls and a pot of coffee. Duke Arutha sat quietly at the left end of the desk. He looked at his son and smiled. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you.

  Dash?”

  Jimmy shook his head. “He’s out there somewhere.” Arutha’s smile faded.

  Patrick finished a mouthful of roll and said,

  “What news of Krondor?”

  Owen said, “Jimmy brings a message from General Duko.”

  Patrick asked, “From General Duko?”

  Jimmy said, “The invaders are having a falling-out, it seems.” He outlined what Duko had told him of his suspicions regarding Fadawah and Nordan, and finished up with, “So the General has a proposal to keep himself and his men from being sacrificed and return Krondor to Your Highness without bloodshed.”

  Patrick’s face was an unreadable mask. Jimmy could see the Prince already could sense where this was going. “Go on,” said the Prince of Krondor.

  “Duko sees no point in returning to Novindus.

  The continent is a waste after ten years of warfare, and . . .” Jimmy paused.

  “Go on,” repeated Patrick.

  “He sees something special in our idea of a nation, Highness. He wishes to belong to something larger than himself. He proposes to return Krondor to Your Highness, and to swear fealty to the crown.

  He will turn his army northward, and march against 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 160

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  Nordan up in Sarth.”

  Patrick’s color started to rise. “Swear fealty!” He leaned forward. “And perhaps he wishes to be named Duke of Krondor in place of your father, as well?”

  Jimmy attempted to keep it light. “Nothing so grand, Highness. A Barony, perhaps.”

  “Barony!” Patrick exploded, slamming his hand on the table, upsetting the coffeepot and spilling the hot liquid over the rolls and across a dozen parchments. The page standing nearby sprang to clean up the mess while the Prince stood up. “The murdering dog has the effrontery to seize my city then hold me up for a Barony to give it back! The thief has no lack of gall.” He looked at Owen and Arutha. “Is there any reason I shouldn’t order the army into the field and simply hang the bastard after we retake Krondor?”

  Arutha said, “There are several reasons, Highness.”

  Patrick looked at him. “They are?”

  “By making a bargain with Duko, we take the enemy’s forces and reduce them by a third. We increase our forces by that much. We save the lives of countless men. We then have an advance unit to throw at Sarth, and we free up men needed to reinforce the southern marches, holding Kesh at bay.”

  Arutha seemed reluctant to continue, but finished by saying, “If Duko is being forthright and this isn’t some sort of elaborate ruse, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up.”

  “Invade my realm, steal my city, destroy my citizens’ lives and property, then turn around and extort a patent of office from my father, and it’s ‘too good an opportunity to pass up’?” Patrick looked at 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 161

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  Arutha, and shouted, “Are you bereft of all reason, my lord?”

  Jimmy stiffened in anger at his father being addressed in such a way, but said nothing. Arutha, showing the patience of a parent faced with a child throwing a tantrum, said, “I am reasoning very well, Highness.” Then, in the tone a schoolmaster used with a student, he calmly said, “Sit down, Patrick.”

  Prince of the Western Realm or not, Arutha had been one of Patrick’s tutors, and old habits were had to break. He sat behind his desk, looking daggers at Arutha, but remaining silent.

  “You must think like a Prince. No matter what else you do with the invaders, you must also deal with Kesh. They are only restraining themselves because the magicians at Stardock are as likely to destroy their forces as they are ours should either side not abide by the present truce. The only way you can deal with Great Kesh is from a position of strength.

  “You must reclaim Yabon. To do that you must clear the Western Realm west of the Calastius Mountains, and to do that you have to take Sarth. If you are forced to fight for Krondor, you will not be able to launch a campaign against Sarth until the middle of summer, at the soonest! ” Arutha’s temper was also rising, but he did a masterful job of keeping his tone under control. “If you have any sort of pro-tracted campaign against Sarth, that means a winter campaign against Ylith or holding off until the following year. By then LaMut will have fallen. If you give Fadawah another winter to consolidate his holdings, we may never regain the North!” He lowered his voice. “Fadawah has already bribed key officials 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 162

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  in the Free Cities. They’re trading with him from all reports. In three months, his army will be better provisioned than our own. He’s also making overtures to the Quegans, who are likely to listen, given how badly they were treated during the invasion.” He glanced at Owen.

  Greylock said, “Taking Ylith is going to require naval support, Highness. If Fadawah is as clever as he seems, he’ll have Quegan ships anchored in the harbor by the time we get there, and that would mean another war with Queg.”

  Patrick looked as if he was frustrated to the point of tears. But he kept his voice and anger under control as he said, “So you’re telling me unless I make a bargain with this murderous scum I may be fighting a three-front war I can’t win?”

  Arutha sighed loudly. “That’s exactly what we’re telling you, Highness.”

  Patrick’s fury was barely held in check. He was intelligent enough to know that Arutha was right, but angry enough to be unwilling to admit it. “There must be another way.”

  “Yes,” said Owen. “You can march to the walls of Krondor, through the assembled mercenaries camped outside, swarm the city and fight house to house for a week, then spend another month licking your wounds and getting ready to march north.”

  Patrick seemed to lose his anger. �
��Damn,” was all he said. For a long moment, he was silent, then one more time he said, “Damn.”

  Arutha said, “Patrick, you can’t reject this offer.

  An invading general is seeking to make a separate peace with us, and only the King can reject that offer.

  Do you want to guess that your father will say no?

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  He’ll ratify any deal you and I strike with Duko, that much I know. All we need are some assurances that this isn’t a trick of Fadawah’s.”

  Jimmy said, “Highness, I only spent a few days with the man, but I think him sincere. There’s a . . .”

  He paused, searching for the right words to describe what he saw in Duko.

  “Say on,” prompted Patrick.

  “There’s something in the man, a hope. He’s tired of the killing, the endless conquest. He told me of the time when he discovered the evil that possessed the Emerald Queen, when she created her Immortals, her Death Guard, the men who surrounded her and who willingly died for her, one each night, so that she might keep intact her death magic. By then any man who showed the slightest hesitation was destroyed, common soldier or general, it didn’t matter. That was demonstrated early in the campaign when some captains tried a revolt, and all were impaled, with the bulk of her army forced to march by the men while they still twitched as they died.

  After the fall of Maharta, General Gapi was staked out over an anthill for letting Captain Calis and his men escape. That showed no one, no matter what rank, was safe from her wrath. Companies were instructed to watch other companies, so no one knew who could be trusted not to report if even a hint of defiance was suspected.

  “Duko spent the winter talking to Kingdom prisoners, soldiers and commoners, some officers from the garrisons down at Land’s End and up at Sarth.

  He’s fascinated by our way of living, our government, our Great Freedom, and he thinks it a wondrous thing, our idea of nation. He was trapped, a 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 164

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  prisoner, and jailer of every other prisoner in the army.” Jimmy took a deep breath, and said, “I think he wants to be part of something bigger, something that will live on after his death and something about which he can feel giving his life might be worth-while.”

  Arutha said, “And he’s been betrayed by his own commander. He may be exactly what he says he is.”

  “I want reassurances,” said Patrick sharply. “I want whatever guarantees you can dream up to convince me I should bring this murdering butcher into our nobility.”

  Owen laughed.

  “Is there something funny in this, Lord Greylock?” asked the Prince.

  “Only that I imagine an ancestor of yours may have said exactly the same thing about the first Baron to live in this castle,” said Greylock, smiling.

  Patrick paused, then sighed. After a moment, he chuckled. “One of my teachers told me the King of Rillanon had drunk himself into near insensibility over the need to accept Bas-Tyra into his service, rather than hang him from the walls of his city.”

  “Many of our most noble lords had ancestors who were nothing more than enemies we chose not to hang, Highness,” said Arutha.

  “Well,” said Patrick, “we have no shortage of openings for nobles in the West. Where shall we place ‘Lord’ Duko?”

  Arutha said, “There are several Earldoms, a score of Baronies, and one Duchy in need of new nobles.”

  Owen said, “We need a Duke of the Southern Marches.”

  Patrick looked at James. “What do you think of 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 165

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  throwing that rabble in Krondor at the Keshians?”

  Jimmy said, “Highness, I hesitate to advise . . .”

  Patrick looked sharply at Jimmy. “Don’t get modest on me at this late date, James. You’d be the first in your family in three generations and I wouldn’t believe it anyway.”

  James smiled. “If you move Duko and his men down into the Sutherlands, between Shandon Bay and Land’s End, you could move those soldiers up into Krondor and still keep a presence along the border to the southwest. We can assume there are Keshian agents all over who are keeping the Emperor’s generals up on our dispositions by the minute. You could then turn at Krondor and move straight up to take Sarth, before Nordan gets dug in.”

  Patrick looked at Owen. “Greylock, you’re Knight-Marshal of Krondor. What do you think of young James’s thesis?”

  Owen knew exactly what he thought of it; he had been discussing this plan with Jimmy the entire journey from his headquarters camp to Darkmoor.

  “It’s risky, Highness, but far less risky than trapping Duko between our army and Nordan’s and making his men fight for their lives. And if we move them down to face Kesh, we don’t have to worry about Duko’s men facing their former comrades, or any spies Fadawah might have in their ranks. Besides, half the men living in the Vale of Dreams are mercenaries, fighting for us or against us at whim; Duko may be exactly the man to rule such as those.” He paused, as if thinking about his next statement, which had been rehearsed in his mind many times already. “If we continue to dredge the harbor, and get the city back into a semblance of order in the next 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 166

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  month, we can drive on to Sarth in six weeks. That would put us six weeks ahead of schedule. We could be at the gates of Ylith before the fall rains come.”

  Patrick said, “I’ll prepare messages for my father.

  If I can’t give the murderous bastard to the hangman, I’ll give him to the Keshians. We’ll need to send a message to welcome our newest Duke into the ‘fam-ily,’ and let him know to prepare for a mobilization of his men.”

  James rose, and said, “If Your Highness will excuse me?”

  Patrick waved him away, and Arutha rose. “If I may be excused for a few minutes to speak with my son?”

  Patrick nodded and turned to his page. “Have a scribe come here at once.”

  Arutha led his son out to the waiting room and moved away from the others gathered to await the Prince’s pleasure. Softly, so as not to be overheard, he said, “What of Dash?”

  “We were separated. Malar and I—”

  “Who’s Malar?” interrupted Arutha.

  “A servant from the Vale of Dreams we encountered. His caravan was attacked and he survived in the wilderness for a month or more.”

  “Malar,” said Arutha. “That name’s familiar.”

  “Malar Enares,” Jimmy supplied. “That’s his full name.”

  “Yes, it’s familiar, but I can’t place it.”

  “I don’t know why you’d know it, Father. His master was an important merchant, perhaps that’s where you know it from.”

  Arutha said, “Most of my records are still in boxes from when we evacuated Krondor. Normally, 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 167

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  I’d have my clerk look for that name. If I still had a clerk.”

  Jimmy said, “Well, if you recognize the name, he’s more than he seems to be. I’ll keep an eye on him if he’s still around when I get back to Krondor.”

  Arutha put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “Do that. Rest now and be ready to leave in a day or two.

  Patrick should have something to send to Duko in two days at the outside. We’ll need some sort of ceremony and pomp, a formal surrender and an investi-ture of office. I wish old Jerome was still alive.”

  Jimmy grinned. “Grandfather never got along with him.”

  “No, but he was as good a Master of Ceremony as I’ve ever known. If you needed the proper welcoming ceremony for a creature from the lower hells, he could find it for you and have it ready on short notice.”

  Jimmy said, “I think a meal and
a nap will do for me right now.”

  “By the way,” said Arutha, “Lord Silden is here.

  He brought Francine with him.”

  “I saw her, just before I went in to see you and the Prince. She was coming in from a morning ride.

  She’s grown up.”

  “I remember you used to think her a pest when you were children in Rillanon. Does she still want to marry you?”

  Jimmy laughed. “Only if I’m lucky. I’m having the midday meal with her if I can stay awake.”

  Arutha smiled. “You’ll manage.” Then his manner turned somber. “I just wish we had some word about your brother.”

  Jimmy nodded. “Me too.”

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  Arutha squeezed his elder son’s shoulder briefly, then returned to the Prince’s office. Jimmy thought about lunch with Francie and decided he wasn’t as tired as he had been before. He decided he might wander down to the guard captain’s office to see if any reports from the West had come in since the night before. He might be lucky and hear something of Dash.

  Pug moved through the door of the “temple,”

  finding it empty. From behind the converted warehouse he could hear the sounds of shouts and children laughing. He hurried through the empty building, past a makeshift altar, through a kitchen area, and into the work yard attached to the old warehouse.

  Nakor squatted near a child who was blowing bubbles with soapy water. Other children chased and grabbed at the bubbles, but the former gambler stared intently at a bubble being formed on the end of the little boy’s pipe. It expanded, as Nakor said,

  “Slowly, slowly.”

  Then, as it reached the size of a melon, the little boy gave in to the impulse to blow hard, and it popped as a stream of tiny bubbles surged from the tip of the pipe. The other children in the yard erupted in laughter, shrieking with delight as the bubbles sailed away on the afternoon breeze.

  Pug laughed and Nakor turned. At seeing the magician, Nakor’s face split into a wide grin. “Pug, what wondrous timing!”

  Pug approached and they shook hands. “Why?”