A Darkness at Sethanon (19 page)

“Well
then, young lads, I’ll wish you the protection of Kilian, who
in her kinder moments watches over sailors and other reckless sorts,
and of Banath, who does the same for thieves, gamblers, and fools.”
In more serious tones, he said, “Take care, boys.” Then
he signalled the boat lowered.

It was still
gloomy, as the coast fog had not been pierced yet by the sun. The
longboat was turned toward the beach and the rowers pulled hard.
Swiftly they headed in, until the bow of the longboat scraped sand,
and Jimmy and Locklear were ashore.

The innkeeper
hadn’t wished to sell his horses at first, but Jimmy’s
serious attitude, his posture of authority, and the way he wore his
sword, coupled with ample gold, changed his mind. By the time the sun
had cleared the forest to the east of the village of Longroad, the
two young men were mounted, well provisioned, and on their way up the
road between Sarth and Questor’s View.

By midday they
were in place, at a narrow point in the road. To the east an upthrust
of land, covered with heavy foliage, prevented anyone from passing,
while to the west, the land dropped away quickly to the beach. From
their vantage point, Jimmy and Locklear could see any travellers
coming up the road or the beach.

They built a
small fire against the damp and settled in to wait.

Twice in the
three days that followed, they had been menaced. The first time had
been by a band of unemployed bravos, mercenary guards, on their way
south from Questor’s View. But that band had been discouraged
by the determination of the two young men, and the probability they
had nothing to steal besides the two horses. One man tried to take a
horse, but Jimmy’s speed with a rapier dissuaded him. They left
rather than spill blood over such trivial booty.

The second
encounter had been considerably riskier, as both youngsters had stood
side by side with weapons drawn, protecting their horses from three
disreputable-looking bandits. Had the road agents had more numbers,
Jimmy was certain the youths would have been killed, but the men had
fled at the sound of approaching riders, which turned into a small
patrol from the garrison at Questor’s View.

The soldiers had
questioned Jimmy and Locklear and had accepted their tale. They were
travelling as sons of a minor squire, who was due to meet with them
soon at this location. The boys and their father would then continue
on south to Krondor, to follow after the Prince’s funeral
procession. The sergeant in charge of the patrol had wished them safe
passage. . Late in the afternoon, the fourth day after arriving,
Jimmy spotted three riders coming down the beach. He watched for a
long moment, then said, “There they are!”

Jimmy and
Locklear quickly mounted and rode down the gap in the cliff to the
beach. They halted, their mounts pawing the sand, as they waited for
the riders to approach.

The three riders
came into view, slowed, then approached warily. They looked tired and
dirty, most likely mercenaries from their weapons and armour. All
wore beards, though the two dark-haired men’s were short and
newly growing. The first rider swore an oath at the sight of the two
youngsters. The second shook his head in disbelief.

The third rider
edged his horse past the first two and came to halt before the boys.
“How did you . . .?”

Locklear sat
with his mouth open, in stunned silence. In everything Jimmy had told
him, this was the one thing the Senior Squire had not mentioned.
Jimmy grinned. “It’s a bit of a story. We’ve a
little camp up on the headland if you want to rest, though it’s
by the road.”

The man
scratched at his two-week-old beard. “Might as well. There’s
little point in travelling much more today.”

Jimmy’s
grin broadened. “I must say, you’re the liveliest-looking
corpse I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a few.”

Arutha returned
the grin. Turning to Laurie and Roald, he said, “Come on, let’s
rest the horses and find out how these young rogues figured us out.”

The fire seemed
to burn cheerfully as the sun disappeared over the ocean. They lay
around the campfire, except Roald, who stood with a view of the road.
“It was a lot of little things,” said Jimmy. “The
Princesses both seemed more worried than grief-stricken. When we were
kept away from the cortege, I became suspicious.” Locklear
added, “It was something I said.” Jimmy shot Locklear a
hard glance, indicating it was his story. “Yes, it was. He
mentioned we were being kept away. Now I know why. I’d have
tumbled to the bogus Duke in the carriage in a minute. Then I’d
have known he was heading north to finish with Murmandamus.”
Laurie said, “Which is why you were kept away.” Roald
added, “Which was the whole idea.” Jimmy looked stung.
“You could have trusted me.” Arutha looked caught halfway
between amusement and irritation. “It wasn’t an issue of
trust, Jimmy. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want you
along.” With a mock groan, he said, “Now I’ve two
of you.”

Locklear looked
at Jimmy with an expression of concern, but Jimmy’s tone put
him at ease. “Well, even princes have an occasional lapse of
judgment. Just remember what sort of fix you’d have been in if
I hadn’t sussed out that trap up at Moraelin.”

Arutha nodded in
surrender. “So you knew something strange was going on, then
figured out Laurie and Roald were going north, but what gave away I
was still alive?”

Jimmy laughed.
“First, the grey stallion was used in the procession, and your
sorrel was missing from the stable. You never liked the grey, I
remember you saying.”

Arutha nodded.
“He’s too fractious. What else?”

“It hit me
while we watched the body go past. If you were going to be buried in
your favourite togs, you’d have your favourite boots on.”
He pointed to the pair the Prince wore. “But there were only
slippers on his feet. That’s because the boots the assassin
wore into the palace were covered in sewer muck and blood. Most
likely whoever dressed the body went looking for another pair rather
than clean the assassin’s boots and couldn’t find any, or
they didn’t fit, so they just put the slippers on. When I saw
that I figured it out. You didn’t have the assassin’s
body burned, only the heart. Nathan must have put a spell on it to
keep it fresh.”

“I didn’t
know what I was going to do with it, but thought it might come in
useful. Then we had that attempt in the temple. That assassin’s
dagger was no sham” - he absently rubbed a sore side - “but
it was not a serious wound.”

Laurie said,
“Ha! Another inch higher and two to the right and he’d
have had a real enough funeral after all.”

“We kept
things at a low boil the first night, Nathan, Gardan, Volney, Laurie,
and I, while we figured out what to do,” Arutha said. “I
decided to play dead. Volney held up the funeral procession until the
local nobles arrived, which gave me time to heal enough to ride. I
wanted to slip out of the city without anyone being the wiser. If
Murmandamus thinks me dead, he’ll stop looking for me. With
this” - he held out the talisman given to him by the Ishapian
Abbot - “he’ll not find me with magic means. I’m
hoping to make him act prematurely.”

Laurie said,
“How’d you boys get here? You couldn’t have passed
us along the road.”

“I got
Trevor Hull to bring us here,” replied Jimmy.

Arutha said,
“You told him?”

“But only
him. Not even Cook knows you’re alive.”

Roald said,
“Still too damn many for a secret.”

Locklear said,
“But, I mean, everyone who knows can be trusted . . . sir.”

“That’s
not the issue,” said Laurie. “Carline and Anita know, as
did Gardan, Volney, and Nathan. But even deLacy and Valdis were kept
ignorant. The King won’t know until Carline tells him in
private when they reach Rillanon. Only those know.”

“What of
Martin?” asked Jimmy.

“Laurie
sent a message to him. He’ll meet us in Ylith,” answered
Arutha.

“That’s
risky,” said Jimmy.

Laurie said, “No
one but a few of us could understand the message. All it said was
“The Northerner. Come fastest.” It was signed “Arthur.”
He’ll understand no one is to know Arutha lives.”

Jimmy revealed
his appreciation. “Only those of us here know the Northerner is
the inn in Ylith where Martin wrestled with that Longly character.”

“Who’s
Arthur?” asked Locklear.

“His
Highness,” said Roald. “It’s the name he used when
last he travelled.”

“And I
used it when I came to Krondor with Martin and Amos.”

Jimmy got a
thoughtful look. “This is the second time we ride north, and
it’s the second time I wish Amos Trask was with us.”

Arutha said,
“Well, he is not. Let’s turn in. We’ve a long ride
ahead, and I must decide what to do with you two young rogues.”

Jimmy wrapped
his bedroll about him, as did the others, while Roald maintained the
first watch. Then for the first time in weeks, Jimmy dropped quickly
off to sleep, free of grief.

R
yath
thundered into familiar skies.

Above the
forests of the Kingdom she wheeled. From her came the thought,
I
must hunt
. The dragon preferred mind-speech while flying, though
she spoke aloud upon the ground.

Tomas looked
back at Pug, who answered. “It is far to Macros’s island.
Nearly a thousand miles.”

Tomas smiled.
“We can be there more quickly than you imagine.”

“How far
can Ryath fly?”

“Around
the globe of this world without landing, though I think she’d
judge there was no good reason to do so. Also, you’ve not seen
a tenth of her speed.”

“Good,”
answered Pug. “Then, when we’ve landed upon Sorcerer’s
Isle.”

Tomas requested
more forbearance from the dragon, who grudgingly agreed. Climbing
high in the blue skies of Midkemia, Ryath followed Pug’s
directions, over the peaks of mountains, toward the Bitter Sea. With
mighty beats of her wings she climbed to where she could soar. Soon
the landscape below sped away, and Pug wondered what the limits of
the dragon’s speed might be. They were moving more rapidly than
a running horse and seemed to be picking up speed. There was a
component of magic in Ryath’s flying ability, for while the
dragon appeared to soar, she was in fact increasing speed without a
single beat of her wings. Faster and faster they flew. They were
comfortable, owing to Tomas’s magic; he protected them from
wind and cold, though Pug was nearly dizzy from exhilaration. The
forests of the Far Coast gave way to the peaks of the Grey Towers and
then they were speeding over the lands of the Free Cities of Natal.
Next they were flying over the waters of the Bitter Sea, highlights
of silver and green glittering on the deep blue, and ships plying the
summer trade routes from Queg to the Free Cities looked but a child’s
toys.

As they sped
high above the island kingdom of Queg, they could see the capital and
outlying villages, again looking like playthings from this height.
Far below them winged shapes flew in formation over the edge of land,
and from the dragon came a mirthful chuckle.

Tomas said,
“They are not what they once were.”

Pug said, “What
is it?”

Tomas pointed
downward. “Those are descendants of the giant eagles I hunted -
Ashen-Shugar hunted - ages past. I flew them as lesser men fly
falcons. Those ancient birds were intelligent after a fashion.”

The island
men train these and ride them as others do horses. They are a fallen
breed.

Tomas seemed
irritated. “Like so much else, they are but a shadow of what
they once were.”

With humour, the
dragon answered,

Pug said
nothing. Well as he understood his friend, there was much about him
no one could ever fathom. Tomas was unique in all the world and had
burdens upon his soul no other being could comprehend. In a vague way
Pug could understand how these descendants of the once proud eagles
Ashen-Shugar had hunted could pain Tomas, but he chose not to
comment. Whatever disquiet Tomas experienced, it was his alone.

A short time
later another island came into view, tiny compared to the nation of
Queg, but still large enough to house a sizeable population. But Pug
knew only a few had ever abided there, for it was Sorcerer’s
Isle, home of Macros the Black.

As they sped
over the northwestern edge of the island, they dipped lower, clearing
a range of hills, then flew above a small vale. Pug said, “It
can’t be!” Tomas said, “What?”

“There was
an odd . . . place here before. A home with outbuildings. It’s
where I met Macros. Kulgan, Gardan, Arutha, and Meecham were all
there, too.”

They swooped
over tall trees. Tomas said, “These oaks and bristlecone pines
did not grow in even the near-dozen years since you first met the
sorcerer, Pug. They are ancient in aspect.”

Pug said,
“Another of Macros’s mysteries. Pray, then, the castle’s
still there.”

Ryath cleared
another line of hills, putting them in sight of the only visible
structure on the island, a lone castle. They banked over the beach
where Pug and his companions had first landed upon the island, years
before, and the dragon rapidly descended, landing upon a trail above
the beach. Bidding her companions goodbye, she launched herself into
the air, preparing to hunt. Tomas, watching as Ryath vanished into
the azure sky, said, “I had forgotten what it was to ride a
dragon.” He appeared thoughtful as he faced Pug. “When
you asked me to accompany you, I was again fearful of awakening
dormant spirits within.” He tapped his chest. “I thought
here Ashen-Shugar waited, only needing an excuse to rise up and
overwhelm me again.” Pug studied Tomas’s face. His friend
was masking his emotions well, but Pug could still see them there,
powerful and deep. “But I know now there is no difference
between Ashen-Shugar and Tomas. I am both.” He looked down for
a moment, reminding Pug of how the boy had once looked when making
excuses for some transgression before his mother. “I feel as if
I’ve both gained and lost.”