Shards of a Broken Crown (20 page)

“Begging
your pardon, my lord,” said the senior guard, “but this
is highly irregular. We have no orders.”

“I’ll
take full responsibility,” said Pug. “I’m on a
mission for the Prince.”

The senior
soldier exchanged glances with the junior, who shrugged. The first
soldier said, “Well, then, I guess it’s all right.”

They led the
prisoners back to the temple, and Nakor shouted as they entered, “Sho
Pi!”

The first of his
disciples hurried over. “Yes, master?”

“Get these
men some food and some clean clothing.” He glanced back, and
added, “After they take baths.”

Sho Pi nodded.
“I will, master.”

‘ “Then
send a message to Rupert Avery and tell him his workers are waiting
for him.”

Pug said,
“Workers?”

Nakor nodded.
“Roo’s going to start up a little wagon-building
enterprise as soon as we return to the camp in the morning and get
him some lumbermen.”

“Lumbermen?”
asked Pug.

Nakor grinned.
“I’ll explain it all as we travel.”

Pug returned the
smile.

Nakor said, “One
favor more.”

“What is
that?”

Nakor lowered
his voice. “I strongly urge you to require the Lady Miranda
stay behind.”

Pug said,
“Miranda can take care of herself.”

“I fear
not for her competence, but rather that well-demonstrated temper of
hers. You are going in harm’s way, even if the risks are
minimal. She might not react well to a threat.”

Pug said, “I
doubt she’d cause another war, but I see what you mean.”
He was thoughtful for a moment, then said, “I think I’d
like her to visit Tomas and see how things are to the north, anyway.
We’re getting almost nothing from Crydee or Elvandar, and if
we’re going to be moving quickly to retake Ylith, knowing how
the struggle for Yabon goes is vital.”

“She has
the means to travel there?”

“There are
some ‘tricks’ my wife is capable of that you and I need
to learn. She can transport herself without patterns or devices.”

“That
would be very useful.”

Pug said, “You
and I, I’m sorry to say, will be traveling by horse. I can fly,
but not if I’m carrying you along.”

Nakor said,
“It’s better than walking.”

Pug laughed.
“You have a wonderful capacity to see the good in most
situations.”

Nakor said, “It
helps at times.”

“I’ll
send word when I’m ready to leave. Two more days, I think.”

“I’ll
be ready,” said Nakor as Pug left.

Dash signaled.

The guards at
the sentry post waved him and his companions forward.

Dash, Gustaf,
and Talwin had trudged along the road for three days, not catching
sight of anyone, save for what they took to be a roving bunch of
bandits late the second afternoon. Duko had pulled back his forces to
just outside of Krondor, so the patrols that had caused the brothers
so much difficulty just a few weeks earlier were now nonexistent.

The nearest
soldier said, “Who goes there?”

Dash answered,
“I’m Dashel Jamison, Baron of the King’s Court.”

Gustaf and
Talwin exchanged surprised glances at that, but said nothing. They
knew something odd had gone on while they were prisoners of the
Mockers, and that Dash had spent time alone with their leader, but
beyond that they only knew the young man was leading them away from
captivity and toward what they hoped would be a warm meal, clean
bedding, and employment.

“Gar!”
shouted the first soldier to the second. “Go get the sergeant!”

The second
soldier started up the road at a trot, toward the distant lights of
the Kingdom’s forward encampment. Dash and the others halted
before the first soldier. The man stood in awkward silence a long
minute, then said, “If I might ask, m’lord. . .”

“What?”
said Dash.

It was obvious
the soldier was curious how a noble of the Prince’s court could
end up in such disreputable attire with questionable company late in
the day on the wrong side of enemy lines, but he restricted himself
to asking, “Would you like some water?”

“Yes,
thank you,” answered Dash.

The soldier
passed over a water skin and Dash drank, handing it to Gustaf, who
then gave it to Talwin. Dash said, “I think I’ll sit,”
and he moved over to the side of the road and sat.

His companions
joined him. They sat in silence, ignoring the curious sentry.

A short time
later a group of riders approached from the Kingdom camp, leading
three horses. A sergeant jumped down from the first horse, handing
the reins to the sentry, and said, “Baron Dashel?”

Dash stood up
and said, “That’s me.”

“Captain
von Darkmoor is at the forward location and is waiting for you and
your companions, sir.”

The three men
rode with the escort a scant mile up the road to Erik’s camp.
He was waiting outside his headquarters tent and said, “Dash!
Your father will be pleased to hear you got back in one piece.”

“What of
my brother?” asked Dash as he dismounted.

“He
arrived about a week ago; he and Owen hurried off to see the Prince
and your father. Come inside.”

Erik gave
instructions to a soldier to find a place for Gustaf and Talwin to
spend the night, and once inside his command tent said, “Hot
food is on the way.”

“Good,”
said Dash, sitting heavily in a camp chair next to a large map table.
He glanced at the map and said, “Getting ready to assault
Krondor?”

Erik shook his
head. “We may not have to, if your brother’s message from
Duko is not some sort of lie.”

“Message?”

“Jimmy got
himself captured and was turned loose by Duko, bringing an offer to
Patrick.”

“What sort
of offer?” asked Dash.

“Duko
wants to change sides.”

“You could
have fooled me,” said Dash. “I was stuck on a work detail
for a few days and he’s rebuilding Krondor as fast as he can.”

An orderly
arrived with two wooden bowls filled with hot stew, simple by any
standard, but the smell of which set Dash’s mouth to watering.
Behind him came two other soldiers, one bearing cheese and bread and
the other two large mugs of wine.

Dash set to, and
after the soldiers left, Erik said, “You’d better fill me
in on what you saw.”

After a few
chews and a swallow, Dash said, “I got caught by Duko’s
men and put to work in a gang.”

Erik said,
“Interesting. They caught Jimmy coming into the city and took
him for questioning.”

Dash said, “I
was already in the city and looking like a rat catcher, so they must
have assumed I had just avoided capture for a while. I don’t
know, but that would make sense. For all that Duko’s doing
there, it’s still pretty confusing in places.”

Erik nodded. “So
you were in a work gang.”

Dash took a sip
of wine. “Yes, until I got out with three other men. We slipped
into one of the sewer culverts under the outer wall and headed into
the city. That’s when we got grabbed by the Mockers.”

“So the
thieves still control the sewers of Krondor?”

“I
wouldn’t exactly call it ‘control’ as much as that
there are some places Duko and his men haven’t found yet, and
they have a couple of safe ways in and out of the city.”

Erik took a
drink of wine and said, “That would have been a blessing if we
were going to assault the city.”

“You think
he’s sincere about wanting to change sides?”

“I don’t
know,” answered Erik. “Your brother seemed to think so,
and he convinced Greylock, and if I know your father, they’ll
all convince the Prince.”

Dash shook his
head. “That creates a problem for the Mockers.”

“What?”

“I
promised them some sort of amnesty or pardon if they helped get us
into the city during the coming attack.”

Erik rubbed his
chin. “With Krondor in ruins it does seem a little trivial
being worried over a man’s past before the war. I mean, should
we hang someone for cutting purses two years ago while we pardon a
man who burned down parts of the city last year?”

“Politics,”
said Dash. “Fortunately for you and me, we don’t have to
make that decision.”

Erik’s
gaze narrowed. “Don’t discount your own counsel too much,
Dash. I’m sure your father and the Prince will want your
opinion on the matter.”

Dash sat back,
swallowed another mouthful, and said, “I have one idea. Just
pardon everyone inside the walls and get on with it.” He
motioned with a fork over his shoulder. “I have no illusions
about those mother-killers back there, and even fewer about the
Mockers, despite my grandfather’s wonderful stories. Most of
those invaders would be rioting within weeks if they were forced to
play garrison soldiers, and the thieves will be cutting purses or
throats within a day of being pardoned.” Speaking around a
mouthful of food, Dash shook his head. “No, the only difference
between having the Mockers help us to get into the city or having
Duko open the gates is me keeping a promise.”

Erik raised an
eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

“Only if
the Mockers decide I forswore my promise and put a death mark on me.”

Erik nodded.
“Let me know if I can help.”

Dash said, “I
will. Though I suspect Father and Jimmy have persuaded Patrick to do
whatever it is that Patrick is going to do.”

“Well, do
you want to wait here and see if they’re heading our way? I
could send word you’re alive. Or do you want to ride on to
Darkmoor?”

Dash yawned.
“Right now I just want to sleep on something softer than a pile
of straw on a stone floor.”

Erik gave him a
rueful look. ‘ “Then you might do well to ride on
tonight. We don’t have a lot of down-stuffed mattresses in
camp.”

“I know,”
said Dash, pushing himself back from the table. “I was just
expressing a desire. I’ll take a soldier’s pallet if
that’s what fate provides. I’ve slept on the ground with
this tattered cloak wrapped around me for the last three nights.”

“Well,
we’ll get you some better clothing,” said Erik. “We
have spares, though you’ll be back in uniform.”

Dash shrugged.
“As long as they’re free of lice and fleas, I won’t
complain about fashion.”

Erik laughed.
“You can always hang your rags over the campfire.”

“A dog
soldier’s washing,” said Dash. “Yes, I’ve
heard of that approach; then your clothing stinks of woodsmoke for
days. I’ll settle for a uniform and you can burn these.”

Erik laughed.
“You can have the extra bedroll over there and bunk in with me
tonight. I’ll try not to wake you when I turn in later.”
He moved toward the tent flap. “I have to check on some things
before. . .” He turned and saw that Dash was already on the
pallet and asleep. Moving outside, Erik turned his mind to the tasks
at hand, though for a brief moment he considered how odd the
situation before him was becoming.

Well, he
decided, he’d leave it to the Prince and Duke to decide if Duko
was being straightforward or not, and then, as always was the case,
he would follow his orders the best way he knew how.

Pug reined in
and the leader of his escort shouted the order to halt. The patrol
heading toward them was decked out in the black of Krondor’s
Crimson Eagles, the special unit founded by Calis, Erik von
Darkmoor’s predecessor, and at their head was a familiar face
from the last winter at Darkmoor.

“Nakor!
Magician!” shouted Jadow Shati, Lieutenant of the company.
“What brings you this way?” He signaled behind him and
his patrol also halted.

“We’re
up to see Captain Subai and then on to see if we can sort out this
mess with the Saaur,” said Pug.

Jadow’s
brilliant smile suddenly fled. “Man, ask Nakor. We’ve
faced them Saaur, down across the sea. Tough and fast. Takes three of
us for each one of them unless we’re heavily armored. What do
you think the chances are of the Prince sending the Royal Lancers
this way, magician?”

“I’m
hoping that I can convince the Saaur that fighting us is a waste on
both sides.”

“Well,
that would be novel. From what I’ve seen of them, peaceful
isn’t the first word that springs to mind when thinking of
them.” He glanced over his shoulder, then said, “Ride on
another hour and you’ll hit our main camp. I’m out for a
couple of days, so perhaps I’ll see you on your way back.”
He looked at Nakor. “How’s your new religion going?”

Nakor sighed
theatrically. “Being good is difficult, Jadow.”

The good-natured
former Sergeant laughed. “You state the obvious, my little
friend.” He waved his patrol after him. “Let’s
ride.” As he passed the leader of the patrol from Krondor, he
accepted their sergeant’s salute with a wave and nod.

Pug said, “Let’s
go see the Captain.”

Nakor said,
“Let’s go eat. I’m hungry.”

Pug laughed.
“You’re always hungry, my friend.”

“You
know,” said Nakor as they rode along, “I had this odd
notion—”

“Really,”
said Pug, interrupting. “You’ll have to tell me of it
some other time.”

Nakor laughed.
“No, I mean really odd.”

“Definitely
some other time,” said Pug.

“Very
well,” Nakor responded.

They rode in
silence as they approached Captain Subai’s camp. It was set up
in a clearing near the base of some foothills rising steeply to the
west. Pug could see the road rose sharply beyond the camp, and judged
this to be the northern boundary of the area considered secured from
invaders. To further reinforce that impression, he could see a heavy
breastwork had been constructed across the road on the northern side
of the camp. Glancing around, Pug could see why this location had
been picked for the headquarters camp. There was ample room to the
south for the area to be quickly reinforced, but to the north the
terrain rose sharply on the west; to the east of the road, the bank
was almost a cliff face, and below it any soldiers coming down along
the base of the hills would be trapped in a narrowing defile. A pair
of archers could hold off anyone coming along that way.