A Crown Imperiled (22 page)

Jim sat back and considered. Then he said, ‘The only Mockers who were turned were also royal agents.’

Again Bill was silent for a while. ‘So, your trouble is all within the straight world, not on your dodgy path.’

‘Apparently.’

‘So you have few, if any, here in Rillanon you can trust?’

‘Also apparently.’

Bill Cutter shifted his weight, leaned forward, and whispered in mock confidentiality, ‘So you’re forced to come begging for favours from ol’ Bill the Butcher?’

‘Something like that, though not really favours, but rather coming to an understanding.’

‘Ah,’ responded Bill slowly. ‘Understanding.’ He almost massaged the word as he spoke it. ‘I do enjoy a good one. What do you have in mind?’

Jim considered how best to make his point. ‘Your buried brothers and grieving widows, we can cut down on that great deal.’

‘You’ll call off the Crushers?’

‘To a point. You limit your happy gang of cutthroats to stealing, larceny, and selling stolen property, and cut back on the violence and bodies floating in the bay, we may be able to look the other way from time to time and not be so swift to pursue.’

‘Tempting,’ said Bill with a nod. ‘And in exchange for reaching this understanding?’

‘As you’ve observed, there are people within my straight organization who have betrayed me. You are the eyes and ears of the criminal underground in Rillanon. You have contacts in Kesh and Roldem I lack. My contacts in Kesh are compromised, and my—,’ he thought about Franciezka and felt an unexpected pang, wondering for a brief second how she fared, ‘—associates in Roldem are also at risk. From what small intelligence I have gained, the crime associations in both Kesh and Rillanon have so far been ignored by whoever is raising hob with each nation.’

Bill sighed and leaned back against his chair once more. ‘Ah, then, there’s the heart of it. I want more.’

‘What?’

‘I want the Mockers.’

Jim was speechless for a moment, his mind racing. The original Upright Man had been an evil bastard named Don the Chandler, a dockside merchant in Krondor who had used brutality and guile to create the illusion of the powerful, mythic and shadowy personage who controlled all crime in Krondor. He also was Jim’s three times great-grandfather: the legendary Jimmy the Hand had been one of his bastard sons. So in a way, the Mockers had been in Jim’s family for five generations in one form or another. ‘Who will you send to run it?’ asked Jim at last.

Bill gave out with a barking laugh. ‘And I should share that with you because . . . ?’

‘Because it’s a condition of the negotiation.’

‘I have a son, one among many, but one who is especially gifted and bright and he’s a little too anxious for me to visit Lims-Kragma’s Hall so he can take over the Council. If I send him to Krondor . . .’ He shrugged.

‘You double your criminal empire and remove your most dangerous threat in a single moment.’

‘It’s a difficult situation,’ said Bill. ‘One of the reasons he’s such a threat is I’m fond of the lad and he knows it. Moreover, he also knows his mother would be beside herself if I cut his throat—,’ he shook his head ruefully, ‘—and she can be a force to be reckoned with.’

Jim laughed, then said, ‘Done.’

Bill looked surprised. After a moment, he said, ‘Done?’

‘If we survive this coming war, I am retired, Bill. I’m done with murder and intrigue and betrayal. I would need to install another as Upright Man, so why not your boy?’ He almost laughed. ‘Though I will put conditions on him; how the Mockers survive in on a high level of trust within those who call Mother’s home. I will not have that betrayed.’

‘Well, and done!’ said Bill slapping his hand on the table. He extended it, and Jim shook it in one sharp gesture. ‘Now,’ said the butcher, ‘on the subject of betrayal . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘I have heard things from both Kesh and Roldem. The Ragged Brotherhood in Kesh is keeping watch on all that occurs within the Upper City and are closely following the ins and outs of Trueblood politics. Likewise, the Shadows in Roldem are painfully aware of the changes there, as the embargo from Kesh has dried up a great deal of their business, though we do manage to keep a certain level of commerce active: Kesh’s fleet is not incorruptible and smugglers are not a priority for them.’

‘So what do you know?’

‘Know? Not much, but I suspect a great deal. To the point, this war makes no sense on any level I can imagine. I am no historian or scholar, nor am I a true master of commerce. But in our line of work you do learn a thing or two along the way. War is about two things,’ said Bill, extending two fingers and tapping the first. ‘It’s about miserable failure in diplomacy, admitting you couldn’t get what you wanted by arguing or persuasion, pleading or threatening.’ He tapped the second finger. ‘And it’s about profit. New land, booty, creating vassal states or any number of things that look like a profit to the winner. Even if conquest is not the reason, beating up your neighbour, winning, demanding ridiculous reparation, then going home, is profitable.’

‘But there’s a third reason?’

Bill grinned. ‘You’re anticipating me. Yes, the one reason no one cares to consider is madness. Some insane ruler or mad prophet or high priest hears a voice in his head and off march the armies.’

‘So, which is this?’

‘There’s the thing,’ said Bill, almost too delighted to speak.

Just then the door opened and a small man carrying a sack began to step over the threshold.

‘Get the hell out!’ bellowed Bill Cutter in a voice to tear the bricks off the wall. ‘We’re not open yet!’

The man leapt back, slamming the shop door so that the windows rattled.

Turning back to Jim, Bill said, ‘Best hurry. I’m late to open. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the thing is, this war meets none of the three reasons we enumerated. There was no failed diplomacy. Correct?’

‘Kesh made no claims in the west beyond their usual rants about the Vale of Dreams,’ agreed Jim.

‘And from what we can see, they appear to be hurtling towards bankrupting the imperial treasury to claim lands in the west that will not provide enough revenue to recoup in the next decade. More, the excuse they need to relocate recalcitrant vassal tribes from the Confederacy to take pressure off the Empire is patently false.’ He held up an index figure for emphasis. ‘For centuries Kesh has kept the Confederacy bottled up below the Girdle and watched with cold amusement as the nations of the Confederacy slaughtered one another for whatever reasons they dreamed up, enduring the occasional rebellion as a consequence, but that is merely the cost of doing business.

‘At times I am convinced that had the Empire had the resources, they would have built a big bleeding gate between the Belt and the Clasp, and thrown away the key. Now suddenly they start a war with their most powerful opponent in the world, to seize almost worthless lands in Crydee and Yabon just so they can move some rebellious tribesmen halfway around the world . . . for what? To make the Truebloods in the Upper City of Kesh feel good about their humanitarian impulses and their love of less fortunate subjects? Hardly.’

Jim nodded, uncertain where all this was going.

‘So, let us for a moment consider the two northern kingdoms. Roldem buttons up their little island and tucks in their fleet. First they try to play honest broker, but quickly they’re scolding both sides, threatening to go one way then another, ally with the Kingdom should Kesh initiate hostilities, yet give no assurances to the Kingdom they will aide them, even though Kesh could overmatch either fleet, but not both. Should Roldem declare for the Kingdom and sail, the Keshians in the Sea of Kingdoms would be quickly driven back to their ports and then the Kingdom has leverage to convince Kesh to withdraw from the west. So, why doesn’t Roldem declare?’ Leaning forward, Bill said, ‘Because—’

The door opened and before Jim could see anyone through it, Bill bellowed, ‘We’re closed!’ and it snapped quickly shut.

‘Where was I? Ah, yes. Because Roldem seems intent on using the war as a massive distraction for the benefit of its citizenry while a gentleman named Lord John Worthington attempts a rather neat little coup d’état. From what I hear, princes and princesses are in hiding, there’s secret police everywhere, and the King and Queen are comfortably at rest in a wing of their palace where all their servants wear weapons and ignore royal commands. Word is Lord John means to marry off his eldest to the Princess Stephané, which would give him a very real presence in the royal household. Which brings us to the Kingdom.’

Jim nodded. ‘The war is being conducted not to lose, as opposed to trying to win.’

‘And even there it’s being waged badly. So badly we have reports of Ceresian corsairs sailing from whatever misbegotten pest hole they call home to raid along the coastal waters from Ran to Watcher’s Point. Word is they sacked Prandur’s Gate with impunity while the Lords of the Border sat and did nothing. They sail right past Kesh’s pickets and are ignored.’

Jim sat back. ‘That I did not know. That could bring the Eastern Kingdoms into the fray. If they think Kesh is allowing the Ceresians to raid their ports . . .’

‘Well, you just got back to town and from what my people tell me you had a long ride halfway to Rodez for no good reason.’

‘What do you know of Rodez?’

‘The command there is intact as of two weeks ago. They sortie against any ships that come too close, pirate or Keshian, and prevent further encroachment into Kingdom waters. But there’s a line in the water, apparently, from Ran to the northernmost peak of the Quor, through the Straits of Ilthros, beyond which no Kingdom authority exists. Makes it ripe for the Eastern Kingdoms to settle old grudges, so expect that soon.’

Jim said, ‘What’s your conclusion?’

‘That no one is fighting to win. They’re just fighting.’

‘To what end?’

‘That, my new ally, is the heart of the matter. Who wins a war that no one wants to win?’

Jim was silent then said, ‘Someone who wants the war to continue.’

‘Very good. Now, who might that be?’

Jim’s mind was racing and already a pattern was beginning to emerge. ‘I think I might know, but I’m not yet certain.’

‘Then you best hop on that question.’

Jim looked at Bill and saw that he was grinning. ‘Tell me of Kesh. Who is truly in command?’

Bill’s expression became more considered. ‘A minor nephew to the Emperor. The Truebloods breed like rabbits so there’s no shortage of opportunities for nepotism in the Upper City. This magistrate is called Prince Harfum, but he has cleverly managed to install his own people in every key position. So while the Gallery of Lords and Masters thunders in debate, the bureaucracy quietly goes about the business of running everything in Kesh.’

Jim held up his hand, showing three fingers. ‘Prince Harfum, Lord John Worthington, and Sir William Alcorn.’

Bill nodded. ‘Three men with little history or power who’ve insinuated themselves in positions of critical influence and who, amongst the three of them, have managed to plunge half the world into a war no one wants to win.’ He pointed a finger at Jim. ‘Find out what they have in common, or who they work for, and there’s your unknown player.’

Jim took a slow deep breath. ‘There’s little I can do now.’

‘Oh, you’re a resourceful lad,’ scoffed Bill. ‘You have assets you haven’t deployed yet, I’m certain. But the Council will be alert and should anything of value come to our notice, we shall inform you as quickly as we can.’

Jim was silent.

‘Now, to the business of my son.’

‘I’ll pen a missive to my senior man in the Mockers. Your son will have to present himself as an apprentice or the rest of the Mockers will grow suspicious. There are only ten people in the world who know the true identity of the Upright Man, and you are only the second who knows who isn’t my employee or an ally.’

‘And the other?’

Jim just smiled, choosing not to reveal the name Lady Franciezka Sorboz.

Bill said, ‘Very well then, be discreet. And I will instruct my son to do the same.’

‘What is your son’s name?’

Again a barking laugh, and Bill said, ‘There’s the black irony of it. His mother named him James.’

Jim laughed. ‘There is a bit of irony, isn’t there?’

‘Be off. I have a business to run and should I need to reach you, my lads will find you quickly enough if you’re on the island. If you go to the mainland, seek out a tavern in either Bas-Tyra or Euper, by the name of the Black Ram in both cities. Just hand a silver real to any barman and say, “To settle a bad debt,” and within minutes someone will take you aside and start the chain of getting a message back to me or delivering one I’ve left for you.’

Jim stood. ‘Thank you, Bill.’

Bill slapped the table as he rose and said, ‘Well and done, Lord James. I never thought I’d say this, but being with you today has been a pleasure.’

Jim found himself smiling. ‘Oddly enough, I’m forced to agree.’

He quickly left the shop and slipped into the morning’s traffic. He was about to employ one of those unused assets Bill had mentioned and he had much ahead of him. The mysteries he had begun to unravel were hinting at dangers he dreaded discovering were true. Still, he felt somehow relieved and his burden lightened, and he realized that giving up control of the Mockers was the most welcome thing he had encountered in a very long time.

Within another minute, Jim was lost in the crowd of the city.

Hal signalled for quiet and everyone stopped speaking and listened. For the better part of two days they had been eluding bands of pirates, bandits, and local gangs. The entire region was in chaos and whatever law that had existed before the war was now gone.

The four of them sat huddled under an overhang while a torrential summer storm slammed the coast of the Kingdom. Ty was the most familiar with this region and guessed it would blow through in less than a day, perhaps in a few hours. But it was punishingly wet, like standing in a waterfall at times as water cascaded from branch to branch, finally to unleash sheets of water at random moments. Moreover, the wind brought a quick chill. As there was no dry place to attempt to build a fire, they crowded together for warmth.