Shards of a Broken Crown

by Raymond E. Feist

  Nakor hurried over to the pit and looked in. He stepped back. “Something is down there.”

  Pug looked up at the platform and said, “That appears to be a way down.”

  Indicating the dried blood and gore on it, Miranda said, “And now the way up.”

  Tomas said, “Whatever caused that necromancy last night is down there.”

  Nakor said, “No, it is a tool, like all those dead fools.”

  “Where is Fadawah?” asked Miranda.

  “In the city, I think,” said Nakor. “Probably in the Baron’s citadel.”

  A strange keening sound echoed from deep within the pit. The hairs on Pug’s neck stood up. “We can’t leave this here.”

  Nakor said, “We can always come back.”

  Miranda said, “Good. Let’s leave this place.”

  She walked to the closed door, opposite the one through which they had entered, and threw it wide.

  As soon as she did, they saw the soldiers arrayed on the other side, their shields in a wall, their bows 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 568

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  poised, and cavalry behind them.

  In the moment it took for the scene to register, they heard the order given and the bowmen fired.

  Dash swore. “We’ve got twelve, eighteen hours to ferret out the rest of the infiltrators or risk a breach.”

  Thomas Calhern, a squire in Duke Rufio’s court, had recovered enough from the poison to serve; Dash had named him an acting Captain. “What matter?” he asked. “Gods, man, you saw the army outside the gate.”

  Dash said, “Never been in a battle before?”

  “No,” said the young man, about the same age as Dash.

  “If the walls are intact, those outside must bring ten men against the wall for every one we have on top of it. We should be able to hold them for a few days, perhaps a week, and if my brother is as clever as I know him to be, a force from Port Vykor should arrive within days.

  “But if some band of Keshian thugs gets a portal opened, and the Keshians get inside the walls, this battle is over before it starts.”

  They were sitting in the Prince’s conference room, and Dash turned to Mackey. “Send a message to the lads at New Market Jail: I want the constables sniffing around the streets.”

  “That takes care of the streets,” said Mackey.

  “But what about below them?”

  Dash said, “I’ll take care of that part.”

  Dash slipped through a door and a dagger was suddenly at his throat. “Put that away,” he hissed.

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  would have been very upset had I killed you.”

  “Not as much as I,” said Dash. “How is he?”

  She nodded toward the corner. A score of thieves were huddled in a far corner of the cellar. Dash smelled coffee and food. “Raided the kitchen, have we?”

  Trina said, “It’s a coffeehouse. We were hungry.

  There was food up there. What did you think?”

  Dash shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m thinking these days.”

  Trina walked with him over to where the old man lay upon a low bed, one that had been used as a stretcher to bear him to Barret’s. She whispered,

  “He’s not doing well.”

  Dash knelt beside the old man, who looked at him but didn’t say anything. The old man held up his hand and Dash took it “Uncle,” he said softly.

  The old man gently squeezed, then let go. His one eye closed.

  She leaned over, and after a moment said, “He’s sleeping again. Sometimes he speaks, other times he can’t.”

  Dash stood up and they went to a relatively uncrowded corner of the basement, between stacks of crates. “How much time?” asked Dash.

  “A few days, maybe less. When he was recovering from his burns the priest said only a great wish or the gift of a God would save him. He’s known this day was coming since then.”

  Dash looked at this odd woman who had come to captivate his attention. “How many of you are left?”

  She started to make a quip, then said, “I don’t know. There are maybe another two hundred scattered through the city. Why?”

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  “Pass the word; we can use every sword we can find. The Keshians will sell you all into slavery, you know that.”

  “If they can find us,” said Trina.

  “If they take the city and hold it more than a week, they’ll find you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, anyone who shows up with a sword and fights, I’ll see they’re pardoned for their crimes.”

  “Guaranteed?” she asked.

  “You have my word on it.”

  “I’ll pass the word,” she said.

  “I’ve got more pressing matters now. The Keshians have given us until dawn tomorrow to surrender, else they’ll attack. We assume that means they’re going to try to open one of the gates between now and then.”

  “And you want us to watch the gates and let you know?”

  “Something like that.” He stepped closer to her, looking deep into her eyes. “You’ve got to slow them down.”

  She laughed. “You mean defend the gates until you get there.”

  He smiled. “Something like that,” he repeated.

  “I can’t ask my brothers and sisters to do that.

  We’re not warriors. Sure, we have some bashers among the Mockers, but most of us don’t know which end of a sword is which.”

  “Then you better learn,” said Dash.

  “I can’t ask them.”

  “No, but you can order them,” said Dash slowly.

  She said nothing.

  Dash said, “I know the old man has been unable 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 571

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  to run things for a while. I’ll bet my inheritance you’re the current Daymaster.”

  She remained silent

  “I won’t ask anything from you without fair trade.”

  “What do you propose?”

  “Hold the gate, whichever they attack. Defend it until I can get a flying company there, and I will pardon everyone.”

  “A general amnesty?”

  “The same deal I made originally with the old man.”

  “Not enough.”

  “What more do you want?” asked Dash.

  She pointed around the room. “Do you know how we came to be, the Mockers of Krondor?”

  Dash said, “I’ve heard stories since I was a boy from my grandfather about the Mockers.”

  “But did he ever tell you how the guild came to be?”

  “No,” Dash admitted.

  “The first leader of the guild was called the Square Man. He was a fence who settled disputes between different gangs in the city. We were killing ourselves more than the citizens. We were stealing from one another as much as from the citizens. And we were getting hung for it.

  “The Square Man fixed that. He started making truces between gangs and getting things organized.

  “He made a place for us called Mother’s and he paid bribes and bought some of us out of jail and off the gallows.

  “The Upright Man took over before your grandfather was born. He consolidated the Square Man’s 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 572

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  power and made the guild the place it was when Jimmy the Hand was running roofs.

  “A few of us enjoy the dodgy path, Dash. Some of us like breaking heads and there’s no excuse for us. But most of us just got dealt a bad hand. Most of us have nowhere else to go.”

  Dash looked around the cellar. Men and women of all ages gathered there, and Dash remembered the stories his grandfather
had told him of the beggar gangs, the urchins running the streets, the girls working the taverns, and the rest of them.

  “If we get amnesty, we’re back on the streets the next day, and most of us are breaking laws and we’re right back where we started. There was only one Jimmy the Hand who had a prince reach down and raise him up to the heights.”

  Trina gripped Dash’s arm. She said, “Don’t you see? If your grandfather hadn’t saved the Prince that one night long ago, he would have lived out his life with these people. It might have been him lying on that bed over there instead of his brother. And you might be over there with the other young men, thinking of how to survive the coming war, find a meal, and keep out of the Sheriff’s clutches instead of being the Sheriff.

  “You’re only a noble by a quirk of fate, Dash.”

  She looked into his eyes, then she kissed him, long and hard. “You’ve got to make a promise, Dash.

  Make a promise and I’ll do whatever you ask.”

  “What is the promise?”

  “You’ve got to save them. All of them.”

  “Save them?”

  “You’ve got to see they are fed and clothed and warm and dry, and out of harm’s way.”

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  Dash said, “Oh, Trina, why don’t you ask me to move the city?”

  She kissed him again. “I’ve never felt anything for any man like I feel for you,” she whispered.

  “Maybe I’m finally acting the lovestruck girl after all these years. Maybe in my foolish dreams I see myself living in comfort as the wife of a noble.

  Maybe tomorrow I’ll be dead.

  “But if we fight for Krondor, then you must save us all. That’s the deal, not some meaningless amnesty. You must take care of the Mockers. That’s the promise.”

  He looked at her for a long time, studying every detail of her face, as if memorizing it. Finally he said, “I promise.”

  She looked at him and a tear formed in each eye.

  As they ran down her face, she said, “The deal is done. What do you want us to do?”

  Dash told her and they spent another moment together. Then he tore himself away from her, the hardest thing he had ever had to do in his life, and he left Barret’s, knowing that his life would never be the same.

  In his heart, Dash knew that he had made a promise that would be impossible to keep. Or, if he kept it, he would be betraying his duty to his office.

  He tried to tell himself that the expediency of the moment required this, that saving the city came first, and that should Krondor fall and they all die, the promise was nothing anyway. But deep inside, Dash knew that he would never look at himself or any oath he gave the same way.

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  Twenty-Six

  Discovery

  PUG’S ARM SHOT forward.

  A rippling energy wave exploded forward, a wall of moving forces that distorted the air as it passed.

  Bowmen who had just released their arrows saw them shattered by it an instant before the wall struck them.

  As if a giant child’s arm had swept aside a table full of toys, the soldiers were thrown back.

  Horsemen died as their mounts were seemingly picked up and tossed back a dozen feet, landing upon their riders. Horses screamed in terror, and those that managed to land on their feet bucked and kicked as they fled.

  Pug, Tomas, Miranda, and Nakor walked through the avenue cleared by Pug’s magic, past men who lay groaning upon the ground. One more hearty warrior rose to his feet, his sword in hand, and lunged toward them. Tomas’s sword snaked out of his white scabbard silently and took the man’s life before he had taken a step.

  They walked to the gates of Ylith.

  A guard on the gate had witnessed the assault and 574

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  had frantically ordered the gates closed. Men were pushing furiously on the gates as Tomas reached them. They swung ponderously toward him but he reached out, placing his shield against the left gate and his sword against the right and with one massive push, the gates swung inward, knocking dozens of men aside.

  Nakor said, “I wish he’d left Elvandar earlier.”

  Pug nodded. “But a vow is a vow. He couldn’t see the threat to his home until now.”

  Miranda said, “Having power doesn’t free one from being short-sighted.”

  “Not short-sighted,” said Pug. “Just a different appreciation of the situation.”

  “Where to now?” asked Miranda.

  “If I remember the layout of Ylith,” said Nakor,

  “straight down this street to the High Road, turn right, and we walk straight up to the citadel.”

  Archers on the wall loosed a barrage of arrows, and Pug erected a protective barrier. “Ignore those,”

  he said to Tomas. “We have weightier matters to address.”

  Tomas smiled at his boyhood friend. “Agreed.”

  They walked calmly through the city of Ylith, and the depredation of the occupation was visible on every side. Some buildings had been rebuilt, but others still lay abandoned, their doors off their hinges and windows shattered, looking like nothing so much as empty faces.

  Men ran from the sight of the four people encompassed by a sphere of flickering blue energy. From nearby alleys and streets, archers peered out and fired arrows at them; they bounced harmlessly off the magic shell.

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  They reached the corner where they needed to turn and found another company of archers waiting.

  Dozens of arrows struck the barrier and bounced off, and when Tomas reached a position a dozen feet before the first rank of archers, they broke and ran.

  Nakor said, “These men are not dangerous to us as long as we pay attention to them, but somewhere ahead is someone who is very dangerous.”

  “Do you know this as a fact,” asked Tomas, “or are you conjecturing?”

  “Conjecturing,” said Nakor.

  “But you suspect something,” said Miranda.

  “What?” asked Pug.

  “Nothing I care to talk about yet,” said Nakor.

  “But yes, I have a suspicion.”

  “I’ve learned over the years to take those seriously,” said Pug. “What do you suggest?”

  They were nearing a large intersection where soldiers were rolling wagons across the street in a barricade. Nakor said, “Only to be careful.”

  Arrows rained down upon them, and even knowing the defense was in place, Miranda and Nakor flinched. “This is irritating,” said Nakor.

  Pug said, “I agree. And as you observed, it could be dangerous if I let my concentration slip.” He said,

  “Stop a moment.”

  They did and Pug raised his hand. He pointed up in the air, and outside the protective sphere, directly over the tip of his finger, a spark of white light appeared. Pug twirled his finger a moment, and the tiny white hot point of light spun. “Protect your eyes!” Pug warned.

  Abruptly the scene became a harsh contrast in white and black, as the point of light erupted to the 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 577

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  brilliance of the sun at noon, then brighter. The pulse of light lasted only for a moment, but the effect was literally blinding.

  Pug and his companions opened their eyes to see men crying in panic and terror, some reaching around, while others fell to their knees, their hands to their eyes.

  “I’m blind!” was repeated on all sides by panic-stricken men. Tomas walked through a gap between two wagons, the defense of the city forgotten by men made blind. “How long will it last?” asked Miranda.

  “No more than a day for some, hours for others,”

  said Pug. �
��But this particular group will not be any further trouble to us.”

  They made their way around the last of the barriers and moved up the street toward the citadel. The remaining soldiers who had retained their sight ran at the vision of the four powerful beings walking purposefully down the street.

  A panic-stricken sentry had called for the drawbridge to be raised, and as they came within a hundred yards of the bridge, they saw it starting to rise.

  Tomas broke into an effortless run, his sword drawn, and Pug realized he had left the containment of the defensive shell. Pug let it lapse, for while it didn’t take a considerable level of concentration to maintain, it required energy he might need later.

  Tomas leaped atop the rising bridge as it reached a height of six feet above the road. With a quick swing of his sword he severed the massive iron chain on the right, links the size of a man’s head shearing with an explosion of sparks and a deafening clang.

  Then he severed the left chain and the bridge crashed back into place. The soldiers inside the 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 578

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  citadel cut the restraining ropes on the winch that raised the portcullis, and the heavy iron gate slid down before them, the iron points slamming into the stones with a loud crash. “I can raise it and you can all slip under,” said Tomas.

  Miranda said, “No, let me.” She waved her hands in a series of gestures and raised her right palm, then extended her right arm toward the gate. A ball of scintillating white-and-silver light formed around her hand, then flew off, like a ball lazily tossed by a child, arching gracefully to strike the center of the portcullis. The energy ran along the bars, sparking and sizzling, and the iron in the gate began to smoke.

  Then it heated up, turning first red, then white-hot.

  Even standing yards away, they could feel the scorching heat of the metal as it began to melt and crumble before them. The men in the gatehouse above the portcullis began to shout and flee the structure, due to the tremendous heat rising from the burning gate.

  Where the molten metal struck the wood of the gate, it flamed and smoke rose. In minutes a hole more than adequate to allow them to pass had been melted through the gate. “Watch where you step, Nakor,” said Miranda.