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Authors: Raymond E. Feist

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BOOK: Krondor the Betrayal
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‘‘I am a member of the Order of Ishap, and I am under their protection,’’ said Graves.

‘‘Then they can come and fetch you out if the Captain has any problems with your story,’’ said the Sheriff in a no-nonsense tone.

They reached the palace without any further conversation, and at the gate the Sheriff turned them over to the Royal Guard. A sergeant came, and said, ‘‘You lot look familiar enough, but I’ve no orders, so let me send word inside about what to do with you.’’

Again they waited, and after a while a message came telling the sergeant to admit the three men. The sergeant ordered palace grooms to come take the horses and palace porters to carry their bundles inside. Then he led the three of them to the office of the Knight-Marshal.

A captain sat alone and looked up when they entered. Owyn didn’t know his name, but he had been present when last they had spoken with the Prince, and would know they were who they claimed to be. ‘‘Owyn,’’ he said in greeting. ‘‘You have a message for the magician Pug?’’

‘‘Yes,’’ said Owyn. ‘‘From Prince Arutha. He wishes the magician to join him, as he fears magic will come into play soon in the coming invasion.’’

The Captain, a veteran of long years of service, looked openly frustrated. ‘‘I would prefer nothing more than to oblige my liege lord, but at present, the magician Pug is absent.’’

‘‘Has he returned to Stardock?’’ asked Owyn.

The Captain shook his head. ‘‘No one knows where he has 248

KRONDOR THE BETRAYAL

gone. His wife came to us a few days ago with the news he had vanished in the night, leaving only a cryptic note. More than this, no one knows.’’

Gorath said, ‘‘Could he have been abducted?’’

The Captain shook his head. ‘‘I know little of magic, but my understanding of Duke Pug’s talents leads me to believe had he not left of his own will, much of this palace would be smoking rubble.’’

‘‘May we see this note?’’ asked Owyn.

‘‘You’ll have to take that up with the Lady Katala. I’ll send word and see if she wishes to speak with you.’’

A page returned quickly, with word the Lady Katala indeed wished to speak with them. They hurried after the page to the private apartment set aside for Pug and his family when visiting the palace, and found Katala waiting.

She was a striking woman, despite her diminutive size, dark-complected and showing a slight dusting of grey in her otherwise dark hair. While small, there was a strength about her that made her distress all the more apparent. She was close to being frantic, yet her emotions were under control.

Her accent was strange to Owyn, something akin to that of Sumani and the other Tsurani he had met in Yabon, but not quite the same. She said, ‘‘I understand you come seeking my husband?’’

‘‘Yes, Lady,’’ said Gorath. ‘‘We carry word from the Prince that Pug is needed.’’

‘‘Where is he?’’ asked Owyn.

‘‘I don’t know. You remember our daughter, of course.’’

Gorath nodded.

‘‘She went missing a few days ago, and I went seeking my husband in his tower. He also was missing.’’

‘‘Perhaps they went someplace together,’’ suggested Graves.

Katala looked at the stranger, and asked, ‘‘Have we met?’’

Owyn introduced them, and Katala said, ‘‘Abbot, my husband would never have left this message had that been the case.’’

She held out a parchment, upon which was written, ‘‘To Tomas! The Book of Macros!’’

‘‘What does this mean?’’ asked Owyn.

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Raymond E. Feist

‘‘Tomas is Pug’s childhood friend,’’ said Katala. ‘‘He is now living in Elvandar.’’

Gorath asked, ‘‘The wearer of the white and gold?’’

Katala said, ‘‘Those are his colors.’’

Gorath said, ‘‘There have been stories among my people, that when those who travel from the Lake of the Sky to the Green Heart come too close to the borders of the land of the eledhel, occasionally one garbed in the raiment of the Valheru appears. His powers are terrible.’’

‘‘Those are not stories,’’ said Katala. ‘‘Tomas exists, and he may be the only one on Midkemia with enough power to find my husband and daughter.’’

‘‘Did you send anyone to carry word to him?’’ asked Owyn.

‘‘Not yet. The Prince took most of the army with him; those left in charge, like the Captain of the Royal Guard and the Sheriff of Krondor, are unwilling to exercise discretion beyond what they see as the clear requirements of their offices. Most of the other nobles are with the Prince or upon other business here in the West.’’ She looked very distressed. ‘‘There really isn’t anyone to send, and I’m not even sure if this message is intended for Tomas.’’

Gorath said, ‘‘Perhaps Pug is instructing someone to take this Book of Macros
to
Tomas?’’

Katala said, ‘‘I helped my husband catalog the entire collection at Sorcerer’s Isle, including those left behind there and those sent to Stardock. There was no single volume I’m aware of called ‘The Book of Macros,’ so it may mean something else.’’

Owyn looked at Graves and Gorath. ‘‘Perhaps we should take this parchment to Elvandar?’’

Graves said, ‘‘As much as I am in debt to you, Owyn, and your friends, my life is held by a short thread. I must make my way to the Temple of Ishap and face my punishment.’’ He glanced around, as if fearful of being overheard. ‘‘If those here who have authority know a tenth of what I have done, I would be in the dungeon below, I am certain.’’

Katala looked confused. ‘‘Perhaps we can help?’’

Owyn held up his hand. ‘‘Lady, he speaks true. He was 250

KRONDOR THE BETRAYAL

moved by his love for another, but he has betrayed his nation and his temple.’’

Graves said, ‘‘I must go to the temple and make my confession. If you will excuse me, I will leave.’’ Taking Owyn by the elbow, he led him aside, and said, ‘‘On your way north, stop at the Abbey of Sarth. They will have knowledge of this Book of Macros if anyone other than Pug does. Besides, they should know of what we have seen.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘I was hoping to take ship.’’ He glanced at Katala. ‘‘If the magician’s wife can arrange it.’’

‘‘Take ship from Sarth,’’ said Graves.

Owyn looked as if he had no better suggestion. ‘‘Very well.

What will happen to you?’’

Graves shrugged. ‘‘Expulsion, certainly, and shame. I may be given a chance to redeem myself through years of penance, but I think I will be put on the street and told to leave. Perhaps a grace period or they’ll alert the Crown I have committed treason and the watch will be waiting for me when I leave the temple.’’ He seemed fairly indifferent to his own fate, but his manner and voice changed when he said, ‘‘But I must get Kat out of the city and safely away. I did this only to protect her, and if I fail in that, all is futility.’’

‘‘How will she get away?’’

Graves smiled. ‘‘My Kat is a woman of no mean talent and wiles. She has her route out of the city already chosen, I imagine, and if I send her word, she will be gone by morning.’’

‘‘Can you get her word?’’

‘‘If I can reach someone in the Mockers, no doubt.’’

‘‘Then fare you well, Abbot.’’

‘‘Fare you well, Owyn.’’ He turned to face Gorath. ‘‘Take care of yourself, as well.’’ He bowed to Katala. ‘‘Lady, good-bye.’’

He left.

Owyn turned to Katala, and said, ‘‘Lady, if you can facilitate getting us the means, we will take this note to Elvandar.’’

‘‘What do you need?’’ she asked.

‘‘Funds, I fear, for we lost most of ours in the North. Fresh horses, so we may ride to Sarth. Then we should sail to Ylith 251

Raymond E. Feist

and take horse to Elvandar. I fear I am asking a great deal, and you know little of us.’’

‘‘I know that my daughter touched Gorath’s mind, and after she said she felt no malice in him toward us.’’ She looked at the dark elf, and said, ‘‘I find it odd, for all I have ever heard of your race is an abiding hatred of ours.’’

Gorath said, ‘‘Two years ago, Lady, I would have found it equally odd. All I can say is that life has turned, and things are not as they once were.’’ He stared out a window that overlooked the city. ‘‘The world is much larger than I once dreamed, or perhaps my place in it is smaller than I once realized.’’ He shrugged as if the difference was unimportant.

‘‘But whichever is true, it is far more complicated a place than I had ever imagined in my years in the icy North.’’ He went to the window and gripped the edge of it, his voice dropping.

‘‘I will help because I once had children. I can’t say more of them, for the pain still lingers, and that wound will not heal.’’

He looked at Katala. ‘‘I will help find your husband, and I will help bring your child home to you.’’

Katala, born of a race of proud warriors, looked at the moredhel chieftain and her eyes were bright. No tears fell, but it was clear to Owyn that Gorath’s words had reached her. ‘‘I will see what I can do,’’ she said softly. ‘‘Wait here.’’

She left, and Gorath and Owyn sat. Owyn said, ‘‘Is it safe for you to travel to Elvandar?’’

Gorath smiled at Owyn, and said, ‘‘We’ll find out, won’t we?’’

A note from Graves arrived at the palace the next day. It said, ‘‘We’re fleeing to Durbin. Tell Jimmy I’m sorry. Graves.’’

With the note was a hastily drawn map, and some instructions on how to operate a secret entrance to the abbey from an abandoned dwarven mine below. Scrawled at the bottom was the note, ‘‘In case you have trouble getting in.’’

Katala arranged for horses and enough gold to secure passage by ship from Sarth and get more horses when they reached Ylith. The Captain arranged for them to be accompanied by a patrol as far as the road leading to the Abbey of Sarth, and they left the following day.

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KRONDOR THE BETRAYAL

Owyn memorized the map Graves had sent, then asked Katala to see that James got it if he returned.

The trip north was uneventful, either because things had moved to a point where Gorath’s freedom was no longer important to Delekhan and his agents, or because they just didn’t know where he was any longer. At the base of the road to the abbey, they parted company with the Kingdom soldiers and headed up the hill.

As they rode, Gorath said, ‘‘This must have been a fortress once.’’

‘‘I believe it was, a robber baron’s or something like that.

The Prince of Krondor at the time gave over the property to the Ishapians.’’

As the road rounded a curve, Gorath said, ‘‘It must have been a murderous battle to storm that position and take it.’’

He pointed to the abbey, now visible at the top of the mountain. High walls close to the sides of the cliffs provided a daunting image. Owyn was forced to agree that he would not wish to be among those storming this old fortress.

They reached the gate, and Owyn shouted, ‘‘Hello, the abbey!’’

To the right of the gate a figure appeared up on the wall.

‘‘Hello, travelers. What do you seek at the Abbey of Ishap at Sarth?’’

‘‘I carry a message from Abbot Graves, late of Malac’s Cross.’’

The figure disappeared and a moment later, the large door swung open. As they rode in, it swung closed behind them, and a very old monk, carrying a large warhammer, stood behind them. ‘‘By the beard of Tith! A Dark Brother riding into the abbey like he belonged here.’’

Another monk put up his hands in a calming gesture.

‘‘Brother Michael, these fellows say they carry word from Abbot Graves at Malac’s Cross.’’ He turned toward the two as they dismounted, and said, ‘‘Brother Michael is our Keeper of the Gate. Earlier in his life he was a warrior, and occasionally he falls back into the habits of his youth.’’

Gorath studied the grey-haired old man, still upright and strong, despite his age. With a slight incline of his head, he 253

Raymond E. Feist

showed his respect. ‘‘If his task is to be vigilant, he serves you well,’’ said Gorath.

‘‘I’m Dominic, Brother Prior to the abbey and in the Abbot’s absence, I am in charge. What may I do for you?’’

Owyn introduced himself and Gorath, and replied, ‘‘We traveled with Squire James of Krondor, and made the acquaintance of Abbot Graves on our way to Romney, a few months ago, and we had reason to visit with Graves recently. He traveled with us to Krondor, to throw himself on the mercy of the temple.’’

‘‘Come inside,’’ said Dominic. He motioned to a monk to take their horses. ‘‘Please, follow me.’’

Dominic appeared to be a middle-aged man, but one who moved with a quick step. His dark hair was showing grey, yet there was a light of curiosity in his eyes that was refreshing.

He showed them to an office, and said, ‘‘Please, sit down.

Would you care for something to drink?’’

‘‘Water, please,’’ said Gorath.

Dominic asked a monk to fetch mugs of water, and said, ‘‘I remember James from a visit here many years ago. He was quite a personality.’’

‘‘He still is,’’ said Gorath.

Owyn smiled at that. ‘‘Abbot Graves asked me to tell you what has occurred.’’ He summed up what he knew, then filled in details when Dominic asked him some questions.

Finally, Dominic observed, ‘‘Well, this is a matter for the mother temple in Krondor, but I fear the Abbot will be subject to the most severe punishment.’’

‘‘Why?’’ asked Gorath.

Dominic looked at the dark elf. ‘‘Why? For betraying us, of course.’’

‘‘Do you fault the tool for bad work, or the worker?’’

‘‘I don’t take your meaning,’’ said the monk.

‘‘Your order selected this man. You subjected him to whatever rites and oaths you human priests use. Yet you admitted a flawed man to your ranks.’’

Dominic sighed. ‘‘We are not perfect. We make mistakes. It was a mistake to admit Ethan Graves to our ranks, no matter how urgent he felt his calling was.’’

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KRONDOR THE BETRAYAL

Owyn said, ‘‘Well, at least he returned to pay his debt.’’

Dominic sat back. ‘‘I wonder . . .’’ After a moment of reflection, he stood up. ‘‘In any event, I cannot help you in the matter of this Book of Macros you mentioned. Pug allowed us to copy certain volumes in his library in exchange for our sending him copies of a few volumes here in our library.’’

BOOK: Krondor the Betrayal
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