Krondor the Assassins (6 page)

‘‘Sorry you’re going to miss the commissioning,’’ said William.

James grinned. ‘‘Don’t worry, Willie. I’ll find you a celebration, and even without this knave’s vaunted reputation as a lodestone for the girls, we’ll find us some pretty faces to look upon you in awe as you sport your new badge of rank.’’

William couldn’t help blushing at that. ‘‘Take care, Locky,’’

he said.

Locklear bid him farewell, and as William ran off to his duties Locklear said, ‘‘Did you see that blush? I warrant the lad’s never been with a woman.’’

James elbowed his friend in the side. ‘‘Not everyone is as precocious as you were, Locky.’’

‘‘But he’s nearly twenty!’’ said Locklear in mock astonishment.

‘‘He’s a bright lad and fair to look at. I suspect things will have changed by the time you return,’’ said James.

‘‘You think?’’

43

R A Y M O N D E . F E I S T

‘‘Certainly,’’ said James as they entered the palace. ‘‘I’m sure I can find him an agreeable girl to bed him in the next five years.’’

Locklear’s grin vanished. ‘‘Five years!’’ With wide eyes he said, ‘‘You don’t think Arutha’s going to keep me up there for five years, do you?’’

James laughed at his friend’s distress. As the two young men hurried along to their Prince’s chambers, Locklear threw an elbow at James—which James adroitly dodged—and for an instant they were boys again.

James and Locklear reached Arutha’s private council room just as the Prince was approaching after his brief visit with his wife and children. He moved purposefully down the small hallway that connected his family’s private apartments with the council chamber and the formal court. James hurried to fall in behind his liege lord, with Locklear one step after. A pair of court pages flanked the council chamber door, and one quickly opened it so that Arutha might enter.

Arutha arrived to greetings from Master of Ceremonies Brian de Lacy. Standing at his right hand was his assistant, Housecarl Jerome. Jerome and his supervisor bowed as one to the Prince; the housecarl gave a fleeting nod of greeting to the two squires. Jerome had been a member of the company of squires with James and Locklear as boys, and James had been the first one to stand up to the older boy, who had been the resident bully. Now Jerome was studying to succeed de Lacy as the man in charge of the daily business of the court, and serving as the chief administrator of the palace while doing so, and James was forced to admit his fussy attention to detail made him ideally suited for the job.

Arutha said, ‘‘I am very tired and would like to join my 44

K R O N D O R : T H E A S S A S S I N S

family for an early supper; let’s save as much as we may for formal court tomorrow. What can’t wait?’’

De Lacy nodded and then looked up. He noticed who was in the room and said, ‘‘Shall we wait for the Knight-Marshal?’’

Just then Gardan entered. ‘‘Apologies, Highness. I wanted to make sure the men were taking care of their mounts and weapons before I joined you.’’

Arutha’s brow furrowed and his mouth turned up in a familiar half-smile. ‘‘You’re not a sergeant any more, Gardan. You’re the Knight-Marshal of Krondor. You have others to ensure that the men and animals are properly billeted.’’

Gardan nodded in reply, then said, ‘‘That’s something I wish to discuss with you.’’ He glanced at the nobles in the Prince’s private offices and added, ‘‘But it will wait until after this evening’s business. Highness?’’ Arutha indicated his agreement.

De Lacy said, ‘‘Two communiqueś from Great Kesh via courier arrived during your absence, Highness, informing the crown of matters of small urgency, yet they do require a formal response.’’

Arutha waved them over to James. ‘‘Leave them. I’ll read them tonight and compose a reply first thing in the morning.’’

De Lacy handed them to James who tucked them under his arm without looking at them.

The Master of Ceremonies looked at the sheriff, who stepped forward and bowed. ‘‘Highness, I fear I must report a rash of black murders have been done in your city during the time you’ve been away.’’

The Prince was silent for a moment as he considered these words, then he said, ‘‘You speak then of something warranting my personal attention? Murder is not uncommon in our city.’’

‘‘I do, Highness. Several men of prominence have been slain 45

R A Y M O N D E . F E I S T

in their beds at night, throats cut while their wives slept undisturbed beside them.’’

Arutha glanced at James and nodded slightly. James knew what the Prince was thinking: Nighthawks.

For nearly ten years the city had been untroubled by the Guild of Death. The assassins who had been employed by Murmandamus’s agents had vanished at the end of the Riftwar. A few months ago rumors about their return had begun to circu-late. Then they had suddenly reappeared in the Kingdom. James himself had killed their current leader, but was under no illusion that the Nighthawks would just go away. If there was another cell of them here in Krondor, they already knew of the death of one called Navon du Sandau, an erstwhile merchant from Kenting Rush. Exposing his true identity had almost gotten James killed in a duel, and it was only by dint of hours spent practicing the sword with Arutha that James had prevailed.

Looking troubled, Arutha asked the sheriff, ‘‘What have your men uncovered?’’

‘‘Nothing, Highness. Of some of the victims, what you’d expect: men with enemies due to their prominence in their trade. But others were men of little significance except to their families. There is nothing of sense about these murders. They seem . . . random.’’

Arutha sat back and weighed what he had been told. His mind turned furiously as he considered, then discarded options.

Finally he said, ‘‘Random? It may be we simply do not understand what is behind the selection of victims. Have your men return in the morning and question the families of the victims, those who worked with them, their neighbors and anyone who may have seen them prior to their deaths. There may be some vital bit of information we are not seeing because we do not 46

K R O N D O R : T H E A S S A S S I N S

know it is important. Send a scribe with your men to record the conversations. In all of this we may discover some connection between those murdered.’’ He sighed, fatigue evident in his features. ‘‘Return to your post, sheriff. Join me after morning court tomorrow and we’ll discuss this business at length. I’ll want your men’s reports by tomorrow evening.’’ The sheriff bowed and withdrew.

Arutha turned to de Lacy. ‘‘What else?’’

‘‘Nothing that cannot wait, Highness.’’

Arutha rose. ‘‘Court is dismissed until the tenth hour of the day tomorrow.’’ De Lacy and Jerome left the chamber, and Arutha turned to Gardan and the squires. ‘‘Now, Gardan, what is it you wished to speak with me about?’’

‘‘Highness, I’ve served your house since I was a boy. I’ve been a soldier and sergeant to your father, and a captain and marshal to you. It’s time I returned home to Crydee. I wish to retire.’’

Arutha nodded. ‘‘I see. Can we speak of this over supper?’’

The Knight-Marshal said, ‘‘If you wish.’’

‘‘I do.’’ Turning to the squires, Arutha said, ‘‘Locklear, you’d best be getting ready for your journey tomorrow morning. I’ll have travel warrants and orders sent to your quarters. Leave with the dawn patrol to Sarth. If I fail to see you before then, have a safe journey to Tyr-Sog.’’

Locklear tried to keep his expression neutral as he answered,

‘‘Thank you, Your Highness.’’

Arutha turned to James and said again, ‘‘You know what to do.’’

Arutha and Gardan turned toward the royal apartments as the two squires moved in the other direction. When they were 47

R A Y M O N D E . F E I S T

out of hearing distance, Locklear mimicked the Prince: ‘‘ ‘You know what to do.’ All right: what is this all about?’

James sighed and said, ‘‘It means I don’t get any sleep tonight.’’

Locklear said, ‘‘Is this your way of telling me it’s none of my business?’’

‘‘Yes,’’ James answered. He said nothing more as they moved to the wing of the palace which housed their quarters. Reaching the door to Locklear’s room, James said, ‘‘I probably won’t see you before you leave, also, so take care not to get yourself killed.’’

Locklear shook hands, then embraced his best friend. ‘‘I’ll try not to.’’

James grinned. ‘‘Good, then with luck we’ll see you at Mid-summer’s Festival, assuming you don’t do anything to cause Arutha to keep you up there longer than that.’’

Locklear said, ‘‘I’ll be good.’’

‘‘See that you are,’’ instructed James.

He left his friend and hurried to his own quarters. Being a member of the Prince’s court merited James a room of his own, but since he was only a squire, it was a modest one; a bed, a table for writing or eating a solitary meal, and a double door wooden wardrobe. James closed the door to his room, locking it behind him, and undressed. He was wearing travel clothing, but it was still too conspicuous for what he needed to do.

Opening his wardrobe, he moved aside a bundle of shirts in need of laundry, and beneath those he found what he was looking for. A dark gray tunic and dark blue trousers, patched and mended and looking far dirtier than they actually were.

He dressed in those, pulled on his oldest boots and slipped a well-made but plain-looking dagger into his boot-sheath. Then 48

K R O N D O R : T H E A S S A S S I N S

once again looking like a creature of the streets, he slipped out through the door of his quarters, avoiding servants and guards as he made his way down into the palace cellar.

Soon he was moving through a secret passage that connected the palace with the city sewers, and as night fell on Krondor Jimmy the Hand once more moved along the Thieves’ Highway.

The sun had set by the time James reached the transition point between the sewer under the palace and the city sewer system.

The sky above might still be light for a while, but beneath the streets it was as dark as night. During the day there were places in the sewer where illumination filtered down from above, tunnels close to the surface where culverts had broken through, others below streets where missing stones or open drains admitted daylight.

But after sundown, the entire system was pitch-black, save for a few locations with light sources of their own, and only an expert could move through the maze of passages safely.

From the moment he left the palace, James knew exactly where he was.

While a member of the Guild of Thieves, the Mockers, James had learned every trick of survival that harsh circumstance, opportunity, and keen native intelligence had presented to him. He moved silently to a stash he had prepared and moved a false stone. It was fashioned from cloth, wood, and paint, and in light far brighter than any likely to ever be present here, it would withstand inspection. He set the false stone down and retrieved a shuttered lantern from the stash. The hidey-hole held an extra set of picks, as well as a number of items unlikely to be welcome inside the palace proper: some caustic 49

R A Y M O N D E . F E I S T

agents, climbing equipment, and a few non-standard weapons.

Old habits died hard.

James lit the lantern. He had never considered keeping a lantern in the palace, for fear someone might observe him making the transition between the palace sewer and the one under the city. Guarding the secret of how the palace could be reached through the sewers was paramount. Every drawing on file in the palace, from the original keep through the latest expansion, showed the two systems as entirely separate, just as the city’s sewer was divided from the one outside the city walls.

But smugglers and thieves had quickly rendered royal plans inaccurate, by creating passages in and out of the city.

James trimmed the wick, lit it, and closed the shutters until only a tiny sliver of light shone, but it was enough for him to navigate his way safely through the sewer. He could do it with no light, he knew, but it would slow him down to a painful near-crawl to have to feel his way along the walls the entire way, and he had a good distance to travel this night.

James did a quick check to insure he had left nothing exposed for anyone to chance across. He considered the never-ending need for security which created this odd paradox: the Royal Engineers spent a lot of time and gold repairing the city’s sewers—and just as quickly the Mockers and others damaged them to have a furtive passage free of royal oversight. James often was the one responsible for identifying a new breach.

Occasionally he was guilty of hiding one, if it suited his purposes more than it compromised the palace’s security.

Thinking that there was a great deal more to being a responsible member of the Prince’s court than he had imagined when he had first been put in the company of squires, the former thief hurried on toward his first appointment.

50

K R O N D O R : T H E A S S A S S I N S

*

*

The docks were unnaturally silent, devoid of even the boisterous noise usually marking the area’s inns and taverns. The poor quarter was clearly a no man’s land, with many of the Mockers’

usual bolt-holes and accesses blocked off and sealed.

Of the Mockers, James had seen nothing. That alone was not completely unusual. He wasn’t the only one adroit at traveling through the sewers and streets unnoticed. But there was something different about this night. There were others who used the sewers. Beggars who weren’t Mockers had places where they could sleep unmolested. Smugglers moved cargo short distances from secret landings built into the larger outflows into the harbor to basements farther in the city. With such activities came noises: small, unnoticed unless one was trained to recognize them for what they were, but usually they were there.

Tonight everything was silent. Only the murmur of water, the scurrying of rats and the occasional rattle of distant machinery, waterwheels, pumps, and sluice gates echoed through the tunnels.