Shards of a Broken Crown (16 page)

“Learning
about one’s self is always a good thing,” observed Nakor.
“After you unload, come inside and I’ll make us some
tea.”

“You have
tea?” asked Roo. “Where did you get it?”

“A gift
from a woman who had hidden it from before the war. It is not very
fresh, I’m afraid, but it is tea.”

“Good,
I’ll join you when I’m done here.”

Nakor went
inside the building, where another disciple was overseeing a class of
students, five this time, listening to the introductory lesson on the
role of good in the universe. Nakor realized that most, if not all,
were there for the meager food his church provided after the lecture,
but he was always hopeful someone would answer the call. So far he
had recruited five new students, for a total of six counting Sho Pi.
Given he had unilaterally decided to create a church for one of the
four greatest Gods in the Midkemian universe, it was a very modest
beginning.

“Any
questions?” asked the disciple, who had himself heard the
lecture for the first time only a few weeks before.

Four of the
students looked back with expressions showing limited comprehension,
but one tentatively raised her hand.

“Yes?”
asked the disciple.

“Why are
you doing this?”

“Why am I
doing what?” said the disciple.

Nakor stopped
and listened.

“Not you,
all of you. Why are you preaching this message of good?”

The disciple
looked at Nakor with near panic on his face. He had never been asked
anything so basic, and the simplicity of the question was confounding
him.

Nakor grinned.
“I’ll answer, but first I must know, why do you ask?”

The girl
shrugged. “Most who preach are servants of one of the common
gods, looking for something. You seem to be asking for nothing, and I
wish to know what is the catch?”

Nakor grinned.
“Ah, a cynic! How wonderful. You, come with me. The rest of
you, wait here and you’ll eat.”

The girl rose
and followed.

Nakor turned as
he led her into what had once been a shipping office and now served
as his personal quarters. A half-dozen sleeping mats were strewn
across the floor, and a small brazier heated a pot of water. “What
is your name, girl?”

“Aleta,”
answered the young woman. “Why?”

“Because
you interest me.”

The girl looked
Nakor up and down frankly, and said, “Well, priest, you don’t
interest me if you’re looking for a companion.”

Nakor laughed.
“That’s funny. No, you interest me because you’re
curious.” He poured tea and handed her a small cup. “It’s
not very good, but it’s hot.”

She sipped at it
and said, “I agree. It is not very good.”

“Now,
about your question. I will answer you if you tell me what brought
you here.”

“I worked
at an inn to the west of here before the war. It is now ashes. I
almost starved during the winter. I have managed to stay alive
without having to spread my legs or kill anyone, but I’m
hungry, and your monk said there’s to be food.”

“A frank
answer. Good. There will be food,” said Nakor. “As to why
we do this, let me ask you a question. What is the nature of good and
evil?”

The girl
blinked, and Nakor studied her as she framed her reply. She appeared
to be in her middle twenties. She had a plain face, with wide-set
eyes that made her appear to be as curious as her questions showed
her to be, and her nose was straight. Her mouth was full, and her
chin was strong, and the entire effect was more attractive than not,
Nakor decided. She wore a heavy cloak over her dress, but Nakor had
glimpsed enough of her as she had crossed the former warehouse to
judge her slender, perhaps even wiry.

At last she
said, “Good and evil
are
natures. They have no nature.
They are what they are.”

“Absolute?”

“What do
you mean?”

“I mean do
good and evil exist in some absolute sense?”

“I suppose
so,” said the girl. “I mean, I think men do what they do
and sometimes it’s good and sometimes it’s evil, and
sometimes I’m not sure, but out there, somewhere, good and evil
exist, I guess.”

“Good
guess,” said Nakor, smiling. “How would you like to stay
with us?”

“That
depends,” she said, skepticism clearly evident. “For what
purpose?”

“I need
smart men and women. I need people who realize that what we’re
doing is important, without taking themselves too importantly.”

Suddenly the
girl laughed. “I’ve never taken myself very seriously.”

“Good,
neither have I.”

“What is
it you’re doing?”

Nakor’s
manner and voice turned serious. “Out there are forces beyond
your understanding. Beyond mine, too.” He grinned, then
returned to a serious demeanor. “Many of those qualities many
people think of as being ‘abstractions’ are truly
objective entities. Do you understand me?”

The girl shook
her head. “I have no idea what you just said.”

Nakor laughed.
“Very good. You are honest. Let me put it another way. The Good
Goddess is sleeping. She is in a trance caused by evil forces. To
awaken her we must do good in her name. If enough of us work on her
behalf, she will return to us and evil will be driven back into the
shadows where it belongs.”

“I
understand that,” said Aleta.

“You don’t
believe it.”

The former
barmaid said, “I don’t know. I’ve never been much
of one for gods and goddesses. But if it will fill my stomach, I’m
willing to believe for a while.”

“Fair
enough.” Nakor rose as Roo came into the office. “We’ll
feed you for as long as you wish to stay here, and you’ll learn
to do good in the Lady’s name.”

The girl
departed and Roo said, “Another convert?”

“Perhaps,”
said Nakor. “Potentially. She’s brighter than most.”

Roo said,
“Attractive, too, in a funny way. Not pretty, but attractive.”

Nakor grinned.
“I know.”

Roo sat and
Nakor offered him a cup of tea. “Sorry the order is short, but
everyone is being shorted right now. I just finished a shouting match
with Prince Patrick’s quartermaster. The army is ready to
march, but they lack stores and I can’t promise as much as I’ve
already brought from the East, let alone what they want.” He
sipped at the hot liquid and said, “Not good, but it’ll
do.” Putting the cup down, he continued, “I can’t
even find wagons. I could bring more if I could get wagons, but most
of the cartwrights in Salador are building for the army. If Patrick
would convince the King to let me have his wagons, I could deliver
them stocked with goods, but they’re bringing more
equipment—arms, saddles, blankets, and the like.”

Nakor nodded.
“You need to get your businesses here back up and running.”

Roo laughed. “If
only I could.”

“What
about building wagons here?”

“No
cartwrights. I know a little about keeping them—I was raised a
teamster, after all—but not about building one. I know a little
carpentry, but I don’t know the metal work, and turning a wheel
is a special skill.”

Nakor said, “If
I can find you some cartwrights, would you do something for me?”

“What?”

“A favor.”

Roo smiled. His
narrow face showed his own wry sense of humor coming to the surface.
“You’re setting me up, aren’t you?”

Nakor laughed.
“Never trick a trickster.”

“What is
it?”

“If I can
get you six cartwrights, I want you to commission a statue to be made
for me.”

“A statue?
What for?”

“I’ll
tell you after I get the men. Will you do it?”

A calculating
look crossed Roo’s face, and he said, “Make it six
cartwrights, a master smith, and three lumbermen, and I’ll
commission two statues.”

“Done,”
said Nakor, slapping the table with his hand. “I’ll have
them for you tomorrow. Where should I send them?”

“I
converted a warehouse outside the city to an office here in Darkmoor.
I’ll use it as a base until I can return to Krondor. Go out the
eastern gate, and at the first road, turn left. It’s the large
green warehouse on the right. You can’t miss it.”

Nakor said,
“I’ll find it.”

“There’s
something about that girl,” said Roo, indicating where Aleta
had gone. “I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.”

“She’s
someone important I think.”

Roo laughed. “As
long as I’ve known you I’ve never pretended to understand
you.”

“That’s
as it should be,” replied Nakor. “For I have never
understood myself.”

“Can I ask
you something, as a friend?”

“Of
course.”

“Over the
years you’ve claimed you only know tricks, yet you manage the
damnedest things that I can only call magic. Now you’re
starting a religion. Now, my question is, what are you really up to?”

Nakor grinned.
“I’m starting something important. I’m not sure how
it will turn out, and I doubt if I’ll be around to see it at
the end, but I’m doing something that may be the most important
thing I’ve done in my life.”

“And may I
ask what that is?”

Nakor used his
hand to indicate the poor building in which they sat. “I’m
building a church.”

Roo shook his
head. “If you say so. Tell me, Nakor, has anyone ever called
you mad?”

Nakor laughed.
“Often, and most of the time they’re serious.”

Roo rose.
“Thanks for the tea. I’ll see what I can do about the
grain, and if you get me those workers, I’ll have those statues
commissioned for you.”

“I’ll
see you tomorrow.”

Sho Pi entered
and said, “Master, those who came to hear the lesson are ready
for food.”

“Then let
us feed them,” said Nakor.

The odd gambler
turned religious leader halted at the office door and watched the
five who were there a moment. Four of them would be gone after their
bellies were full, but the girl, Aleta, would remain. And without
knowing why, Nakor knew that a major part of his future path had
turned a particular way because she was now here. He didn’t
know how he knew, but he was certain that from this time forward, she
was the most important person in his newly founded church, and her
life must be protected above everyone else, including himself.
Keeping his thoughts to himself, he entered the warehouse and helped
his disciples feed the hungry.

Erik pointed and
said, “What do you see there?”

“Something’s
coming along the road,” said Akee, the Hatadi hillman. “A
single man, on horseback.”

Erik squinted
against the setting sun. Sure enough, what had been a faint movement,
a speck of darkness against the bright sky, resolved itself into the
figure of a man on horseback, trotting along the King’s
Highway.

Erik von
Darkmoor, Captain of the Crimson Eagles, and a mixed detachment
consisting of members of his own company, Hadati hillmen, and members
of the Royal Krondorian Pathfinders were spread out on either side of
the highway. “One of ours?” asked Erik.

Akee said, “I
think so. I think it’s Jimmy Jamison.”

“How can
you tell?”

The Hadati
smiled. “You learn to recognize a friend by the way he sits his
mount.”

Erik turned to
see if the man was joking and saw that he wasn’t. During the
winter Erik had spent enough time with the Hadati hillman and his
company to come to respect him and even like him as much as one could
the somewhat standoffish hill fighters. Akee was a leader in his
village and considered an important voice in the council of the
Hadati people up in Yabon, that much Erik had come to understand.

He had also
discovered the man was the grandson of a companion of the former
Prince of Krondor’s, one Baru, called the Serpentslayer, and as
a result, Akee was considered very sympathetic to the Kingdom, a
quality not universal among the independent and tough-minded hill
people of Yabon. Of all the people living within the boundaries of
the Kingdom, the Hadati were among those most aloof. The fact that
any had answered the Duke of Yabon’s call for scouts was
directly related to Akee’s having been among them.

Jimmy rode
closer and Erik and Akee left the shelter of the woods and rode
toward him. Jimmy reined in until he recognized the two familiar
figures, then he raised his hand in greeting.

As they stopped
before him, Erik nodded, and Akee said, “You look as if you’ve
been through something unpleasant.”

“It could
have been worse,” said Jimmy.

Erik asked,
“Dash?”

Jimmy shook his
head. “He was captured for a while, but he got away. I don’t
know if he’s somewhere in the city, or if he got loose. If he’s
loose, he’s on his way back here. If he’s in the city and
is caught, I’ve got assurances he won’t be harmed.”

“Assurances?”
said Erik.

“It’s
a long story. One I need to tell Prince Patrick, or at the least Owen
Grey lock.”

“You’re
in luck,” said Erik. “I’m heading back toward
Ravensburg, where Owen has his forward command. The Prince is still
in Darkmoor, but the roads are ours between here and there, almost as
peaceful as before the war. You can reach the Prince in less than a
week.”

Jimmy said,
“Good. I have grown very tired of the road and would love
nothing more than a hot meal, a bath, and a soft bed.”

Erik nodded and
said to Akee, “Have your scouts move west for another day and
report back.”

Jimmy said,
“There’s no need. General Duko is recalling all his
patrols. The only thing you need fear are bandits and some bored
mercenaries camped under the walls. You can move your entire command
to the outlying estates and build your camps there, less than a day’s
ride from the city.”

Erik looked
curious, but he only said, “I think I had better ride back with
you, Jimmy.”