Shards of a Broken Crown

by Raymond E. Feist

  Dinner was quiet. Conversation had been subdued throughout the evening. Mostly it had been sporadic, on this or that issue before the throne, or a small remembrance of Lord Arutha, but long periods passed in silence.

  As the last course was removed, waiters appeared with trays upon which rested crystal goblets and decanters of brandy. Patrick said, “As the sons of Lord Arutha are not permitted the relief of returning with their father to the capital for his funeral, I thought it appropriate to honor him with an informal wake. If you would be so kind, gentlemen, a word or two in remembrance would be appropriate.

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  “Lord Brian?”

  The Duke of Silden said, “Since boyhood, Arutha and I were friends. If I was to name the one quality of his many that I found most remarkable, it was his unrivaled clarity of thought. Whatever opinion he gave, on whatever subject, it was the distillation of a remarkable mind. He may have been the most gifted man I have known.”

  Jimmy and Dash exchanged glances, for they had never considered what his peers might have thought of their father.

  The other nobles made their remarks, and last before the boys was Captain Subai. Not given to long speeches, he seemed uncomfortable, but nevertheless said, “I think of the Duke as perhaps the wisest man I’ve known. He knew his limits and yet was not afraid to challenge them. He put the welfare of others above his own. He loved his family. He will be missed.”

  Subai looked at Jimmy, who said, “He was named for a great man.” Jimmy nodded toward Patrick, who acknowledged the reference to his grandfather. “He was raised by a man who may be unique in our history. Yet he knew how to be himself.” Looking at Patrick, he said, “I think about being the grandson of Lord James of Krondor, perhaps because I was named for him. I rarely thought what it must have been like to be his son.” Tears gathered in James’s eyes as he said, “I just wish I could have told him how much he meant to me.”

  Dash said, “I too. I think I may have taken him for granted. I hope I never make that mistake with anyone else who is dear to me.”

  The Prince stood, taking a glass from the servant.

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  Others did as well. Jimmy and Dash each lifted a glass as the Prince said, “Lord Arutha!”

  Everyone at supper, Lord Silden, Captain Subai, and the other nobles invited to Patrick’s “intimate”

  dinner echoed the toast and drank. Then Patrick said,

  “This supper is now over, gentlemen.” He withdrew from the hall, and the rest of the guests waited the appropriate time before themselves leaving the hall.

  James and Dash left the hall, a step behind Lord Silden and Captain Subai. They bid the other men good night and returned to their rooms. Jimmy was about to bid Dash good night when a page came running. “Gentlemen, please! Attend the Prince at once!”

  They hurried after the page, who led them back to the Prince’s office. Inside they found Patrick standing before his desk. His face was a red mask of rage and in his fist he held a message that he had crushed.

  He held it out to Lord Silden, who unfolded and read it. His eyes widened. “Gods!” he said. Looking stricken, he said quietly, “LaMut has fallen.”

  Patrick said, “A soldier escaped and made his way to Loriel, with half of Fadawah’s army behind him. He died after delivering the message. It came south by fast courier from there to Darkmoor, then to here. LaMut has been in enemy hands for three weeks now.” Patrick spoke bitterly.

  “We congratulated ourselves on the ease with which we took Sarth, and it was all a trade. He gave us back a fishing town, a port of no importance, and in exchange he took the heart of Yabon! Yabon City is now at grave peril and we are no closer to retaking Ylith than we were at first thaw!”

  The Prince looked close to being frantic.

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  Suddenly, Jimmy and Dash were painfully aware of how the absence of their father was being felt. They both glanced at Brian Silden, who stood silently, looking afraid to speak. Patrick finally said, “I know, we must get word to Yabon! We must send word to Duke Carl to hold until we can get relief to him.”

  “What of Loriel?” asked Jimmy.

  “It holds,” said Patrick. “But we don’t know for how long. Fadawah has massed a huge number of men outside the walls, and by this report the fighting is fierce. It may have fallen already. And the report says some sort of black magic is being directed at the defenders.”

  Jimmy and Dash exchanged glances. All reports from the previous year’s campaigns said the Pantathian Serpent Priests were gone, but they may have been premature in their assessment. And there was nothing to prevent the magic being the product of human mages.

  “We must get word to my great-grandfather,” said Jimmy.

  “The magician?” said Patrick. “Where is he?”

  “He should still be in Elvandar, if things are as he planned them. He will return to Stardock in another month’s time.”

  “Captain Subai,” said Patrick. “Can you get messengers to Yabon?”

  “It’s difficult, Highness. We may be able to get one through the mountains to the north of Loriel.

  Perhaps reach some of the hillmen from Yabon. One of them could continue on to Elvandar.”

  Patrick said, “Subai, leave at first light for Darkmoor. Get whatever help you need and go north.

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  von Darkmoor will press on until they reach the invaders’ positions south of Ylith. Jimmy, you will go south to Duko and apprise him of what we face.

  Krondor is now an empty shell and vulnerable. We must show a strong face to everyone. Dash, you must keep this city under control, by whatever means.

  Now, Lord Silden, please stay and help me compose the orders. Gentlemen, the rest of you are dismissed.”

  Outside the Prince’s quarters, Jimmy said,

  “Captain Subai, if I pen a message to my great-grandfather, would you see he gets it along with the other communications?”

  “Of course,” said the Captain. “I expect we’ll both be at the city gate at first light tomorrow. Give it to me then. And I will have something for you.

  Until then, good night.”

  Jimmy and Dash bid the Captain good night, and Jimmy said, “Well, Sheriff, help me compose a letter to Great-grandfather.”

  Dash said, “Sheriff?” With a sigh he followed his brother.

  The dawn was still hours away, but the sky was lightening in the east as Dash stood next to his brother. Upon another horse sat Malar Enares, the servant from the Vale of Dreams, who had somehow learned of Jimmy’s journey. He had prevailed upon Jimmy to allow him to ride south with him, claiming that while work was plentiful in Krondor, payment wasn’t, and that his former master’s business holdings along the Keshian border might still be operating. As the man was harmless company in the main, and often useful, Jimmy agreed.

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  Captain Subai rode up with a company of his Pathfinders and handed a canvas-wrapped bundle to Jimmy. “This was your father’s sword, Jimmy. I took it from him before they prepared his body to return it to Krondor. I knew as elder son it was to be yours.”

  Jimmy took the bundle and unwrapped it. The hilt was worn, and the scabbard nicked and scratched.

  But the blade was immaculate. Jimmy drew the blade and saw the faint outlines of a miniature warhammer seemingly etched into the forte of the blade. He knew that this was where Macros the Black had empowered the blade with a talisman from the Abbot of Sarth Abbey when Prince Arutha had to face the moredhel lead
er Murmandamus. The sword had hung in the study in Krondor since the old Prince’s death, and had been sent by Duke James to his son. Now Jimmy held it. “I don’t know,” said Jimmy. “This should go to Patrick or the King, I think.”

  Subai shook his head. “No, had the Prince of Krondor wished the sword to go to the King, it would have. He left it in Krondor for a reason.”

  Jimmy held it reverently for a while, then unbuckled his own belt, handing his sword to Dash.

  He put his father’s sword belt around his waist.

  “Thank you.”

  Dash came to stand next to Captain Subai and said, “Would you see the courier who you’re sending to Elvandar carries this message to our great-grandfather, please?”

  Subai took the letter and placed it inside his tunic.

  “I am that courier. I personally will lead the Pathfinders who travel to Yabon and on to Elvandar.”

  “Thank you,” said Dash.

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  Subai said, “If we don’t chance to meet again, young Jimmy, it has been an honor.”

  Jimmy said, “Safe travel, Captain.”

  The Pathfinders rode out the gate, heading east at a relaxed trot. Jimmy looked at his brother. “Stay safe, little brother.”

  Dash reached up to shake Jimmy’s hand. “You travel safely, too, big brother. I don’t know how long it will be before we see one another, but you will be missed.”

  Jimmy nodded. “Letters to Mother and the rest of the family are in the pouch bound for Rillanon.

  When I know where I’m likely to be, I’ll send word.”

  Dash waved as Jimmy and his company rode out the gate, then turned around to head back into the castle. He had a meeting in an hour with the Prince, Lord Brian, and others in the castle. After that he had to begin the process of bringing law and order to Krondor while Jimmy rode south to Port Vykor.

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  Fifteen

  Betrayal

  JIMMY HALTED.

  The escort stopped behind him. The Captain of the company of Patrick’s Royal Household Guards said, “This is as far as we’re supposed to go, m’lord.”

  He glanced around. “Leave it to those—”

  “Captain?”

  “I mean no disrespect to Lord Duko, m’lord, but after all, we were fighting him and those miserable bastards he calls soldiers just last year.” He noted Jimmy’s disapproving expression and said,

  “Anyway, they should be here, making a camp, before they start back to their patrol”

  “Maybe they ran into some trouble.”

  “Possible, my lord.”

  They were at a fork in the road, the agreed-upon southern limit of Krondorian patrols—everything to the south was Duko’s responsibility. The southwest fork in the road led to Port Vykor, while the southeast fork would start around the edge of Shandon Bay, eventually leading toward Land’s End.

  Jimmy said, “We’ll be fine, Captain. We’re halfway to Port Vykor and should be running into 335

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  Lord Duko’s patrols any time now. If they’re not here today, they’ll be here tomorrow, I’m sure.”

  “I’d still feel better if you’d wait here until one shows up, m’lord. We could linger here for another half-day or so.”

  “Thanks, but no, Captain. The sooner I get to Port Vykor, the sooner I can be about the Prince’s business. We’ll continue along the southwest road until sundown, then we’ll camp. If Duko’s patrol doesn’t show up to escort us tomorrow, we’ll find our way to Port Vykor alone.”

  “Very well, m’lord. May the gods watch over you.”

  “And you, too, Captain.”

  They parted company with the Krondorian patrol, who turned northward, while Jimmy and Malar continued southwest. They rode through quiet countryside, scrub grass, and what once might have been farmland, but which had known the tread of the con-queror’s boot too often. Keshians on their way to the Kingdom, and Kingdom soldiers on their way to Kesh, had turned these rolling hills and sparse woodlands into a no-man’s-land in the last hundred years.

  The rich lands of the Vale of Dreams to the east kept farmers and their families struggling despite the constant threat of war between two nations rolling over them. The lands through which Jimmy and Malar rode offered no such bounty. They might be the only two men for fifty miles in any direction.

  As the sun sank low in the western sky, Malar asked, “What shall we do now, my lord?”

  Jimmy looked around and pointed to a small dell near a clear-running stream. “Make camp for the night. Tomorrow we’ll continue toward Port Vykor.”

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  Malar had unsaddled the horses and brushed them down. Jimmy had discovered he was a competent enough groom along with his other talents.

  Jimmy said, “You feed the horses and I’ll gather some firewood.”

  Malar said, “Yes, m’lord.”

  Jimmy moved around the campsite, finding enough small branches and sticks to make a reasonable fire.

  After the fire was ready, Malar set about making an acceptable meal: hot trail biscuits, a mix of dried beef and vegetables chopped and mixed into a pot of rice, to which he added spices which made it quite flavorful. Malar produced a ceramic bottle of wine from Darkmoor. He even had a pair of cups.

  As they ate, Jimmy said, “Port Vykor is a bit out of the way for you. If you’re up to the risk, you may have that horse and ride on to the east. You’re still north of the frontier and should be able to reach the vale safely.”

  Malar shrugged. “I will reach the vale eventually, my lord. My master is almost certainly dead, but perhaps his family has conspired to keep his business afloat and I can be of use to them. But I would rather spend a little more time in your company—the fierceness of your blade makes me more comfortable on the road than I would be alone.”

  “You managed well enough for those winter months you wandered in the wilderness.”

  “Of necessity, but not by choice. And most of that time was spent starving and hiding.”

  Jimmy nodded. He ate his meal and sipped his wine. “Is this off?” he asked.

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  lord.” Jimmy shrugged. “It’s odd for this type of wine. Something metallic.”

  Malar took another sip. “Not that I can notice, sir.

  Perhaps you are just getting an odd aftertaste from the food. Maybe with the next drink it will taste differently.”

  Jimmy sipped again and swallowed. “No, it’s def-initely off.” He set the cup aside. “I think some water would be better.” Malar started to stand, and Jimmy said, “I’ll get it.” He started walking toward the creek and suddenly felt a wave of dizziness. He turned and looked to where the horses were tied. The horse seemed to be moving away from him, and then he felt as if he stepped into a hole, for he was now a great deal closer to the ground than before. He looked down and saw that he was on his knees, and as he tried to stand, his head swam. He fell hard to the ground and rolled over on his back. The face of Malar Enares moved into his view, and from a great distance, said, “I believe the wine was off, young Lord James.”

  The features of the man moved out of view and Jimmy tried to follow him. Jimmy rolled over and, lying with his head on his arm, he could see Malar move to Jimmy’s horse, and open the pouches with all his messages to Duke Duko. He glanced at several of them, nodded, and put them back into the pouch.

  Jimmy felt his legs getting cold and felt a distant stab of panic. His thinking was growing foggy and he couldn’t remember what it was he was supposed to do. His throat was tightening and his breathing wa
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  were wearing huge gloves. Dull sensations reached his brain, and suddenly he gagged on his own fingers, vomit rushing up through his mouth and nose.

  He gasped and choked, spat, and groaned aloud. His body wracked with pain as he felt his stomach heave again.

  Malar’s voice came from a great distance away.

  “It’s a pity such a fair young lord has to come to such a messy and undignified end, but such are the necessities of war.”

  Somewhere in a dim evening, Jimmy heard a horse riding away, and then he was hit by another agonizing cramp and everything faded from view.

  Dash looked across the faces of the men who had been recruited. Some were ex-soldiers, grey-haired men who remembered how to handle a sword.

  Others were street toughs, men who were just as likely to be brawling in a tavern as trying to keep the peace in the city. A few were mercenaries, looking for steady work, men who were clearly Kingdom citizens and who were not known criminals.

  “We’re presently under martial law in Krondor, which means just about any violation of the law is a hanging offense.”

  The men looked at one another, some nodding.

  Dash continued, “This will start to change as of today. You are the first company of the new City Watch. You will be instructed in what that means in greater detail as we go, but unfortunately, we have no time to educate you before we begin. So, I will make a few things clear to you all.” He held up a red armband, upon which a rough coat of arms, which looked like the Prince’s, had been sewn. “You’ll 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 340

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  wear this at all times when on duty. It’s what marks you as the Prince’s men. You break a head while wearing this, you’re restoring order; you break a head without it, and you’re another thug I’ll see behind bars. Is that clear?”

  The men nodded and grunted agreement.