Shards of a Broken Crown (39 page)

“What is
that?”

“The price
of my life.”

Vasarius studied
Roo for a long moment, then said, “Say on.”

“I was
taking that treasure ship of yours to Krondor. I would have sent the
ship back to you, for I would not be counted a pirate, but the gold
was taken from the Kingdom and was to be returned to the Kingdom.”
He smiled. “As it happens, the crown is in debt to me,
considerable debt, and I suspect I would have accounted much of that
treasure to that debt, so in a sense, it was more my treasure than
yours.”

Vasarius said,
“Avery, your logic astonishes me.”

“Thank
you.”

“It wasn’t
a compliment. Besides, the treasure resides below a great deal of
ocean at the moment.”

“Ah, but I
know how to get it,” said Roo.

Vasarius’s
eyes narrowed. He said, “And you need me to get it?”

“No,
actually, I don’t need you at all. In fact, unless you have
access to certain magicians, you’re of no use to me. I can
locate members of the Wreckers Guild of Krondor. They’re
actively clearing the harbor right now, but the Prince will let me
borrow some for a small commission.”

“So then,
why tell me this?”

“Because
here’s my offer. I will take what I raise from the ocean’s
floor. I will need to give one part in ten to the crown for
interrupting their clearing of the harbor. And I will be forced to
account the rest toward the debt of the crown, I am certain. And I
will have to pay the guild’s fee. But I am willing to divide
what remains equally, and ship that half to Queg.”

“In
exchange for what?”

“For you
not engaging the services of a highly trained assassin as soon as you
return to Queg.”

“That is
all?”

“More, a
vow that you will never attempt to harm me or my family, nor will you
idly allow anyone over whom you have influence in Queg to trouble
us.”

Vasarius was
silent for a very long time, and Roo resisted the impulse to speak.

Finally the
Quegan noble said, “If you can do this and account to me half
the money you raise less the Prince’s cut and the guild’s
fee, then I will agree to seek no further reprisals against you or
your family.”

The night air
was cooling, and Roo hugged himself. “That takes a great load
off my mind.”

“Is there
anything else?” asked Vasarius.

“One
suggestion,” said Roo.

“What?”

“Consider
that when this war with Fadawah’s invaders is over, there will
be many opportunities for profit. But not if a war erupts between
Queg and the Kingdom. Both sides have suffered from the invaders’
intrusion into the Bitter Sea, and more war would bleed us all
white.”

“Agreed,”
said Vasarius. “We are not ready to fight a war.”

“That’s
not the point. The point is when you’re ready to fight one, it
still does neither side any good.”

“That is
for us to decide,” said the Quegan.

“Well, if
you don’t see it my way, at least consider this: there is going
to be a great deal of profit in rebuilding the entire Bitter Sea
after the war with Fadawah is finished, and those who aren’t
fighting are going to be able to reap most of it. I could use
associates in many of the undertakings I’ll be contemplating.”

“You have
the effrontery to suggest an association, after I made that terrible
mistake once already?”

“No, but
if you should someday choose to make it, I will listen.”

Vasarius said,
“I have heard enough. I will return to my cabin.”

“Think on
this, then, my lord,” said Roo as the Quegan walked away.
“There will be a great many men needing transport across the
sea to Novindus, and there are few ships able to carry them. The fees
for such transport will not be trivial.”

Vasarius paused
the briefest instant, then continued walking, until he disappeared
down the ladder to the main deck and the cabins below.

Roo turned and
looked out at the star-filled night, watching the whitecaps on the
water. “I’ve got him!” he whispered to himself.

Jimmy felt as if
someone had kicked in his ribs. It hurt to breathe and someone was
tugging at his collar. A distant voice said, “Drink this.”

Something wet
touched his lips and he felt cool water fill his mouth and he drank
reflexively. Suddenly his stomach knotted and he spewed forth the
water, convulsing as strong hands held him.

His eyes were
stuck shut. His head rang and his back felt as if his spine had been
hammered by a mace; his trousers were fouled with his own excrement.
Again water was forced between his lips and a voice in his ear said,
“Sip slowly.”

Jimmy let the
water trickle slowly down his throat, a few drops at a time, and this
time his stomach accepted the bounty. Other hands picked him up and
moved him.

He passed out.

Sometime later,
he woke up again, and found that a half-dozen armed men had set up a
camp. One sat near by and said, “Do you feel up to drinking
some more water?”

Jimmy nodded and
the man brought him a cup of water. Jimmy drank and suddenly was
terribly thirsty. He drank more, and after the third cup, the man
took away the waterskin, saying, “No more. For a while at
least.”

Jimmy said, “Who
are you?” His voice sounded dry and distant, as if it was being
used by a stranger.

“My name
is Captain Songti. I recognize you. You’re the one called Baron
James.”

Jimmy sat up and
said, “It’s Earl James now. I got a new office.” He
glanced around and saw the sun was rising in the east. “How
long?”

“We found
you an hour after sunset. We had been preparing to make camp a short
distance from here, and as is my practice, I had a rider sweep the
perimeter. He saw your campfire. When we rode over to investigate, we
found you lying there. There was no blood, so we thought you might
have sickened on food.”

“I was
poisoned,” said Jimmy. “In wine. I drank little.”

The Captain, a
round-faced man with a short beard, said, “A fine palate. It
saved your life.”

“Malar
wasn’t trying very hard to kill me. He could have cut my throat
easily enough.”

“Perhaps,”
said the Captain. “Or he could have fled against our arrival.
He may have been gone only minutes before we arrived. He could have
heard us before we saw him. I don’t know.”

James nodded,
then wished he hadn’t. His head swam. “My horse?”

“There are
no horses here. You, your bedroll, a low burning fire, and that empty
cup you held, that was all that was here.”

Jimmy held out
his hand. “Get me to my feet.”

“You
should rest.”

“Captain,”
Jimmy ordered. “Help me stand.”

The Captain did
as he was bid, and when Jimmy stood, he asked, “Have you some
extra clothing you can spare?”

“Alas,
no,” said the Captain. “We are but three days from Port
Vykor and ready to return.”

“Three
days . . .” Jimmy said. He said nothing a moment, then said,
“Help me walk to the creek.”

“May I
enquire why?” asked the Captain.

“Because I
need to bathe. And wash my clothing.”

The Captain
said, “I understand, but we would do well to return to Port
Vykor as quickly as possible, so you may recover in comfort.”

“No,
because after I bathe I have other business.”

“Sir?”

“I need to
find someone,” said Jimmy as he looked down the southeastern
road, “and then I need to kill him.”

Erik frowned.

Owen swore. “We
were taken like bumpkins at the fair.”

Subai, still
covered with road dirt and exhausted from days of nonstop riding,
said, “Patrick was correct. They let us have Sarth, and while
they were taking LaMut, they built that.”

“That”
was an impressive series of earthen barricades running from a steep
hillside that was impossible to scale by anything less surefooted
than a mountain goat down to the cliffs overlooking the sea. The
woods for almost a thousand yards had been cleared, with low stumps
left to confound any attempt at organizing a cavalry charge. The only
break in the structure was a huge wooden gate across the King’s
Highway, easily as big as the northern city gates in Krondor.

The first
hundred yards rolled down to a tiny creek which crossed the roadway,
and from that point to the barricade the terrain rose steeply. To
charge that position would be to invite serious casualties, and any
attempt at wheeling a ram would be undercut by the need to force the
device uphill. The breastwork was built up to six feet in height, and
as Erik could see helmets reflecting the sun behind it, he assumed
steps had been built up behind so that archers could fire down upon
anyone charging up the slope.

Erik counted. “I
see at least a dozen catapults back there.”

Subai said,
“That’s a nasty piece of work.”

Greylock was
forced to agree. “Let’s talk about this.”

They moved away
from the forward position, past the arrayed companies of Kingdom
soldiers ready to attack if the order was given. In a clearing a
hundred yards behind the front lines, they gathered. Owen said, “I
don’t see any easy way through that.”

Erik said,
“Agreed, but what has me worried is how many more positions
like that we may face as we travel up the coast to Quester’s
View.”

Owen said, “We
might ask our guest.” He indicated a position to the rear where
General Nordan and some other key captains of Fadawah’s army
were being guarded. Most of the captives from Sarth were still under
guard in that town, but the officers were accompanying Greylock’s
command company. Owen and the others walked over toward a pavilion
being erected for the officers and waved the guards near Nordan to
bring him over.

Nordan reached
the tent just as table and chairs were being placed for Greylock to
sit. He did so, letting Erik and the very tired Subai also sit, but
he kept Nordan standing. “Now,” Greylock said, “how
many of these defensive positions can we expect between here and
Quester’s View?”

Nordan shrugged.
“I do not know. Fadawah did not see fit to keep me informed of
what was occurring behind my lines.” He glanced around. “If
he had, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you, Marshal. I
would be over there, behind the breastwork.”

“Sold you
out, did he?” asked Erik.

“Unless he
has some masterful plan to swoop down on the back of a dragon and
carry me back to Ylith, apparently.”

“Duko told
us Fadawah feared rivals for command of the army.”

Nordan nodded.
“I was sent to Sarth to watch Duko more than I was to achieve
any sort of secondary defense here in the South.” He glanced
around. “May I sit?”

Owen waved for a
chair to be brought over, and when it was, Nordan sat. “Once
the assault on Krondor was underway, I was going to ride down, watch
a bit of the battle, ride north, and make a decision on fortifying
the town or withdrawing north. You neglected to assault Krondor, so
of course, I never got to make that decision.”

“Lord Duko
thought a change in allegiance seemed propitious,” said Subai.
“Without his cooperation, we never would have taken Sarth so
easily.”

“Lord
Duko,” said Nordan, as if weighing the sound of it. “He
is now a Kingdom man, then?”

“That he
is. He has command of our southern border with Great Kesh,”
replied Grey lock.

“Would it
be possible,” asked Nordan, “for another such
accommodation to be made?”

Owen laughed.
“Duko had an army and a city to offer. What do you bring to the
table?”

Nordan said, “I
was afraid it would be something like that.”

“Well,”
said Erik, “if you think those on the other side of the
barricade would surrender on your word, we might be able to find
sufficient incentive to make your future here more pleasant.”

“Von
Darkmoor, isn’t it?” asked Nordan.

Erik nodded.
“You know me?”

“We were
looking for you long enough when your Captain Calis took his Crimson
Eagles and turned renegade. We knew of the one who looked like a Long
Lived, and we knew of the big young blond sergeant who fought like a
demon. The Emerald Queen may have been a servant of darkness, but she
had clever men among her officers.”

Nordan grew
reflective. “Kahil was one of her men, yet he managed to
insinuate himself into Fadawah’s trust. I am Fadawah’s
oldest companion.” He looked at Erik. “You served with us
long enough to know how our ways differ from yours. A Prince is an
employer, no more worthy of loyalty than a merchant. To a hired
sword, he is but a merchant with more gold.

“Fadawah
and I began as boys, from nearby villages in the Westlands. We joined
Jamagra’s Iron Fists and started fighting. For years we served
together, and when Fadawah started his own company, I was his
subcaptain. When he became a general, I was his second-in-command.
When he met the woman known as the Emerald Queen and swore dark oath
to her, I went along.”

Subai looked at
Erik, who nodded, and said, “I think we need to know of this
man, Kahil.”

Nordan said, “He
was one of her captains. We met him when she sent for Fadawah and
arranged for him to take command of her forces. I thought it strange
that she would seek us out when she already had commanders, but the
money was good and she proposed conquests that would do nothing but
make us rich beyond imagining.

“Kahil
specialized in sneaking inside of cities before we attacked them,
gathering information and sowing discord among the populace. He spent
more time with the Emerald Queen than anyone save Fadawah, and those
men she called her Immortals, the men who willingly died in her bed
to feed her hunger.”

“You knew
of that?” asked Erik.

“You hear
things. You try to ignore anything that distracts you from the task
at hand. I was her sworn Captain, and until I either was released
from duty, captured or killed, I would not betray her.”