Krondor the Assassins (10 page)

James nodded. ‘‘But nothing I can give voice to. Just a vague sense that this all ties together, these murders, the disappearance of citizens, the arrival of this outland noble.’’

‘‘If you discover the whole of the parts, let me know.’’

James said, ‘‘You’ll be the first.’’

‘‘Did you sleep?’’

‘‘Earlier? Yes,’’ said James, knowing what was coming next.

Arutha said, ‘‘Good, then you know what to do.’’

James nodded, bowed to the Prince, crossed to bow to the Princess, then removed himself from the hall. As he left, he signaled for a page to follow. The young man fell into step behind him.

James hurried toward the tapestry room and found it empty.

He quickly moved on to the Princess’s garden and found a very flushed William standing next to the Princess Paulina, obviously reduced to little more than a near babbling fool as the girl held tightly to his arm, chatting about the flowers.

‘‘Ahem,’’ said James.

The relief on William’s face was abundantly clear as James bowed to the Princess. ‘‘Highness, this page will escort you to your quarters. Your father and brother have turned in for the night.’’

‘‘But it’s early,’’ said the girl with a pout.

‘‘If you prefer, he’ll escort you back to the gala. But Cadet William’s presence is required elsewhere.’’ She seemed about to object, but James said, ‘‘By the Prince’s orders.’’

She frowned, then forced herself to smile as she turned and 79

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said to William, ‘‘Thank you for being my guide. It is a pity things ended prematurely. Perhaps we’ll have time to continue later during our visit?’’

‘‘M-m’lady,’’ William stuttered.

James was seized by a rush of desire as the girl passed close to him while he bowed. As she retreated, the feeling faded.

James turned to find William blinking, obviously confused, and asked, ‘‘Are you all right, Willy?’’

‘‘I don’t know,’’ he replied, still blinking. ‘‘While we were together, I . . . I don’t know how to explain what I felt. But now that she’s gone . . .’’

‘‘Magic,’’ said James.

‘‘Magic?’’

‘‘She employs magic, according to her brother,’’ said James.

‘‘To heighten her charms.’’

‘‘I find that difficult to believe,’’ said William.

‘‘What an odd thing for someone raised on an island of magicians to say,’’ observed James as William blushed. ‘‘Believe it.’’ He put his hand on the young soldier’s arm. ‘‘I’ve got to take care of some business for Arutha, and you look like you could use a drink.’’

‘‘I think I could,’’ said William, ‘‘but I have to return to the Cadets’ Quarters.’’

‘‘Not if you come with me,’’ said James.

‘‘How does Arutha’s business involve me getting an ale?’’

James grinned. ‘‘I have to poke around a few places, and the cover story of being out with a friend jumping from tavern to inn is just the thing.’’

Sighing in resignation and trying hard not to imagine Swordmaster McWirth’s reaction to whatever plan James had in mind, William fell in beside his friend and they left the garden.

80

FOUR

SURPRISES

m

W ILLIAM kept his eyes forward.

He knew his every movement was being closely scrutinized by Swordmaster McWirth.

The old soldier had always paid slightly more attention to William’s progress over the last year than with the other cadets, but with his commission set for the end of this week, it seemed lately that every single gesture and word was being evaluated.

William tried to attribute it to his having been an exceptional student, perhaps the best swordsman with the long two-handed sword in the garrison, as well as a proficient student of tactics and strategy. He also considered that his odd situation of being a royal cousin by adoption might have contributed to his being a ‘‘special project’’ of the swordmaster’s. But no matter how he tried to please the old teacher these last few days, there was always something lacking in his efforts. Either a thrust was a hair’s breadth too low during sword practice, or his decision to reinforce a position in field training was a bit premature.

William wondered briefly if the swordmaster had something against him personally, but then pushed aside the thought as 82

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McWirth came to stand before him. In a friendly tone, the old soldier said, ‘‘Late night, cadet?’’

William still felt sand in his eyes from too little sleep, but he tried to will aside any shred of fatigue that clung to his bones.

‘‘Sir! Late enough, swordmaster!’’ he said as briskly as he could.

‘‘Tired, cadet?’’

‘‘No, swordmaster!’’

‘‘Good,’’ said McWirth, raising his voice so that the company of cadets could hear him, ‘‘because today we’re going on an exercise. Some very bad men have surrounded the village of Tratadon and we must ride very fast and rescue the daughters of Tratadon from the clutches of these evil men.’’ Again, he looked at William and added, ‘‘Of course these particular bad men are garrison regulars who would love to embarrass a bunch of fuzzy-cheeked cadets, so just make sure they’re disappointed.’’

As one, the cadets shouted, ‘‘Yes, swordmaster!’’

‘‘Swords and saddles in fifteen minutes!’’ cried the swordmaster.

William was off at a run with his companions and stole a quick glance up to the palace wing where he suspected his friend James was still sleeping. He was on the verge of a silent curse when he remembered that James hadn’t forced him to stay at the Rainbow Parrot, and that the girl, Talia, was very attractive. He really liked the way she smiled at him.

The thought was fleeting; for once he reached the armory to collect his armor and weapons, he got too busy to think of anything but the coming exercise.

James glanced down at the courtyard where the cadets were scurrying toward the armory to be fitted out for the day’s exer-83

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cise. He had forced himself to remain awake while reading the day’s schedule and knew that William and the others had a grueling day ahead of them. Tratadon was a ten-hour forced march and the squad sent out to play the part of bandits the night before would be well and firmly dug in. McWirth was making sure his lads knew exactly the sort of trouble they were most likely to encounter in their work.

‘‘Squire?’’ came a soft voice, gently preventing James’s reverie from slipping into a fatigued doze.

‘‘Yes?’’ James replied to the young page, forcing himself to wakefulness.

‘‘His Highness waits in his private office.’’

James nodded, forcing aside the warm fatigue that made him feel like sleeping every time he stopped moving. As they reached the side door to Arutha’s office, another page opened the door so that James could march in without slowing his pace.

Arutha sat at his desk. He indicated two mugs and a large pot and said, ‘‘Please.’’

James poured and was greeted by the aroma of dark, Keshian coffee. As he added a single spoonful of honey to the Prince’s mug, he said, ‘‘To think I couldn’t stand coffee a few years ago. Now I wonder how one gets through the morning without it.’’

Arutha nodded as he took the offered mug. ‘‘Or chocha.’’

James shrugged at mention of the Tsurani morning bever-age. ‘‘Never developed a taste for it. Too bitter and spicy.’’

Arutha waved James to a chair and said, ‘‘I’ve got court in fifteen minutes, but you’re not attending today. I need you to do two things, one trivial, one not so.’’

James nodded but said nothing.

Arutha continued. ‘‘Duke Radswil and his family wish to 84

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hunt. You will instruct our huntmaster to ready a party to accompany the Prince of Olasko to the mountains for a day’s hunting the day after tomorrow.’’

‘‘That’s the trivial,’’ suggested James.

Arutha nodded. ‘‘Find your missing agents if possible, and see if you can discover the source of all this mayhem in our city. That will involve a rather delicate sort of diplomacy on your part, for you must first begin at the city jail with a social call on Sheriff Means.’’

‘‘Now do I get to find out why he was waiting for us when we got back to Krondor?’’

Arutha regarded his young friend with an appraising look.

‘‘You haven’t ferreted out that gossip by now?’’

James stifled a yawn. ‘‘I’ve been too busy.’’

Arutha drained his mug and stood. James stood as well. ‘‘We have some problems between the City Watch and the sheriff’s men. The sheriff was here complaining in part about Guard Captain Guruth’s soldiers, especially the squad over in the poor quarter.’’

‘‘Ah,’’ said James. ‘‘A jurisdictional dispute.’’

‘‘Something like that. Traditionally the City Guard concerns itself with keeping the security of the city, while the constables of the sheriff’s office are more concerned with crimes, but lately the two have been clashing over trivial issues. There’s always been a little rivalry, but now it’s getting out of hand.’’

‘‘What would you like me to do, Highness?’’

As Arutha moved toward the door opening into the great hall, he said, ‘‘I want it stopped before it turns into open brawling between constables and guardsmen. See if you can devise a way in which both sides turn their attention to the murders 85

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in Krondor and stop this wrangling.’’ Arutha left his private office for morning court, and James standing alone.

James lingered for a moment, savoring the last gulp of warm coffee, then turned and headed for the outside hallway. He had a lot to do, and as usual, not much time in which to do it.

Krondor early in the morning was James’s favorite place and time. As he left the palace he was once more struck by the vibrancy of the Prince’s city. The sun had risen in the east an hour earlier and already the city was teeming with activity.

Wagons were rolling toward the gates to meet arriving or departing caravans, or toward the docks to pick up cargo delivered by ships in the harbor. The stream of workmen already about their jobs was increased by merchants on their way to open shops, customers heading toward those shops, and a thousand other citizens and visitors.

A breeze off the harbor carried the salt tang of the ocean and James breathed deeply, feeling revived. By noon the day’s warmth would reveal every decaying fruit rind, meat scrap, discarded bone, and less savory by-product of human occupation.

James had been city born and bred, and the stench of a warm day near the tanneries and dyers, or the pungency of the cattle pens and poultry yards, was taken for granted, fading into the background so that it went mostly unnoticed. But the absence of such stench was certainly appreciated.

He took another deep breath in gratitude as an ox cart trundled past, and at that moment, one of the oxen displayed his kind’s tendency for flatulence, relieving himself with an heroic discharge. James’s nose wrinkled and he hurried away from the spot, knowing that the gods’ sense of humor was mean-spirited, and demonstrated thousands of times a day in minor 86

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human misery and inconvenience. Had it happened to someone else, he would judge the moment highly comic.

James hurried through the Royal Market, which wasn’t truly a royal venue, but named such because it was the market closest to the palace. The hawkers already had their wares on display and shoppers were making their way around the stalls, inspecting the goods offered for sale.

He moved down High Street, avoiding the jam of wagons and carts at several intersections. Idly he thought that one good use of the constables would be to stand at the intersections sorting out the traffic mess in the morning. By mid-day things would have died down a bit, but right now there were at least half a dozen fights brewing as teamsters, farmers, and delivery men all shouted insults at each other.

James ducked through the heavy press of citizens and travelers and reached the next corner to find that a fight had erupted.

Two wagons had obviously become tangled when a cart had overturned, causing a horse to shy, back up, then flip over its wagon. Two city constables were hurrying across and just as James reached the scene, someone shoved him aside shouting,

‘‘Make way!’’

James staggered into a young woman who was carrying a basket of grain, which was dumped in the street when she fell.

She shrieked angry demands for repayment. He obliged with a muttered apology, and turned to defend himself from the next stupid thug.

It turned out to be Captain Guruth, commander of the City Guard. He was a burly man with a black beard, dark eyes, and a deep voice with a naturally threatening tone, which was used effectively as he roared, ‘‘What is going on?’’

Instantly the onlookers quietened, but the two combatants 87

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continued their fisticuffs. Two guardsmen hurried past their captain and set to with spear butts just as the constables arrived to lend a hand. Quickly the two struggling men were subdued and the captain turned once, surveying the crowd. ‘‘Everyone!

Get about your business or we’ll find a place for you in the palace dungeon!’’

Quickly the crowd dispersed and Guruth turned to James.

‘‘Squire?’’ he said, his tone indicating he expected an explanation for James’s presence at the scene of this altercation.

James was feeling set-upon, what with being shoved aside by the guardsmen, and being addressed in that particular tone, as if he were an intruder in the city of his birth. ‘‘I’m on the Prince’s business,’’ he said, dusting himself off.

The captain offered a gruff laugh, deep and short, then said,

‘‘Well, then, you’d best be about it, while I sort out this mess.’’

‘‘Actually, my mission concerns yourself and the sheriff. If you’d be so kind as to accompany me to his office,’’ said James, walking away without seeing if the captain followed.

James heard the captain issue orders for his men to let the constables take care of the matter and to fall in. The sound of boots on stone in regular rhythm told James that the captain and his men were close behind. He picked up the pace slightly, ensuring that the captain and his men would have to step lively to keep up with him. The sheriff’s office was not too far from the scene of the altercation, near the Old Market Square.