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‘An honest inn,’ said Graves.
Some of the enthusiasm left Limm’s expression. ‘In Durbin? Well, if you say so.’
Kat said, ‘We’re going to have a baby. We want him to grow up honest.’
Limm was speechless. He sat in wide-eyed astonishment. Finally, he said, ‘A baby? Are you daft?’
Graves exhibited a wry smile and Kat’s brown eyes narrowed as she said, ‘What’s daft about a baby?’
Limm said, ‘Nothing, I guess, if you’re a farmer or a baker or someone who can expect a fair chance at living to old age. But for a Mocker …’ He let the thought go unfinished.
Graves said, ‘What’s the clock? We’ve been cut off from sunlight so long I have no sense of it.’
‘It’s nearly midnight,’ said Limm. ‘Why?’
‘With the Upright Man dead, or even just the rumour of it, things will be happening. Ships that would otherwise have stayed in Krondor will be leaving the docks before the morning tide.’
Limm fixed Graves with a questioning look. ‘You know something?’
Graves stood up from the small chair and said, ‘I know lots of things, boy.’
Limm jumped to his feet. ‘Please take me with you. You’re the only friends I’ve got, and if the Upright Man’s dead, who knows who’ll come to rule in his place. If it’s that Crawler, most of us are dead anyway, and even if it’s one of our own, who’s to say what my life is worth?’
Graves and Kat understood. The peace within the Mockers was imposed from the top down, and it would never be mistaken for friendship. Old grudges would surface and old scores would be settled. More than one Mocker would die not knowing for which past transgression he was paying the ultimate penalty. Graves sighed in resignation. ‘Very well. Not much for you here, I’ll grant, and another pair of eyes and nimble fingers might prove worthwhile.’ He glanced at Kat, who nodded silently.
‘What’s the plan?’
‘We need to be at the docks before the dawn. There’s a ship there, a Quegan trader, the Stella Maris. The captain is an old business acquaintance of mine. He was lying low, claiming a refit was needed, against the time when we could smuggle ourselves out of here. He’ll sail for Durbin as soon as we board.’
Kat said, ‘Lots of ships will be leaving on the morning tide, so another won’t cause too much notice.’
Limm look excited. ‘When do we head to the docks?’
‘An hour before dawn. It’ll still be dark enough for us to stay in shadows, but enough of the town will be awake and about so we won’t attract much attention.’
Kat smiled. ‘We’ll be a family.’
Limm’s narrow young face took on a sour expression. ‘Mother?’
Kat was barely ten years older than Limm, so she said, ‘Big sister.’
Limm said, ‘We have one problem, though.’
Graves nodded. ‘Getting to the street.’
Limm sat back, for he knew that there could be no plan, ruse, or providential miracle that would get them safely to the docks. They would simply have to leave this hideout and risk a short walk through a dark tunnel which might house a dozen murderers or sewer rats. And they wouldn’t know which until they left. Limm was suddenly tired and said, ‘I think I’ll sleep for a bit.’
‘Good idea,’ agreed Graves. ‘There’s a pallet over there you can use. We’ll wake you when it’s time to go.’
Limm moved to the indicated corner and lay down. Kat whispered, ‘What are the odds?’
‘Bad,’ admitted her lover. ‘We’ve got to get the boy some clothing. Dirty boys are nothing unusual at the dock. But not that dirty.’ Trying to muster some optimism, he said, ‘Still, if the Upright Man is dead, there may be enough chaos in the city that we can slip out without attracting notice.’
‘Any other choice?’
‘Only one,’ admitted Graves, ‘but I won’t use it unless we’re caught.’
‘What is it?’
Graves looked at the young girl for whom he had thrown away everything and said, ‘I have one friend left, who gains nothing from my fall. If I must, I’ll send Limm to him begging for help.’
‘Who?’ whispered Kat.
Graves closed his eyes as if admitting he might seek help was hard for one as self-reliant as himself. ‘The only thief who can beg the Prince of Krondor for my life.’
‘Jimmy?’
Graves nodded. ‘Jimmy the Hand.’
• CHAPTER TWO •
Krondor
THE COLUMN RODE TOWARDS THE CITY.
Krondor was backlit by a late afternoon sun, dark towers rising against a lemon-yellow sky. In the east, distant clouds turned rose and orange against a blue that seemed to shimmer. The column behind the Prince’s vanguard tightened up as they entered the southernmost city gate, the one closest to the palace and barracks. Traffic in the area was normal for this time of day: a few traders drove wagons into the city, while farmers who’d visited the city for the day were leaving, starting their homeward journey.
James pointed. ‘Not much of a welcome, is it?’
Locklear saw that a few curious onlookers were turning to watch the approaching company that was escorting Arutha through the palace district. Otherwise they were ignored by the citizenry, as they had been since entering the outer reaches of Krondor. ‘I guess Arutha didn’t send word we would arrive today.’
‘No, there’s something else,’ said James, his days of fatigue washing away as curiosity took hold of him.
Locklear looked at the faces of those on the street who stood aside to let the Prince’s company ride past, and saw anxiety. ‘You’re right, James.’
The capital city of the Western Realm of the Kingdom of the Isles was never silent. Even at the darkest hours before sunrise, sounds could be heard from all quarters. There was a pulse to any city, and Krondor had one that was as well known to James as his own heartbeat. He could listen to its rhythm and understand what it was saying: Something’s wrong. It was less than an hour before sundown, yet the city was far more subdued than it should be.
Locklear listened and knew what it was James was hearing, a muted quality, as if everyone was speaking a little more softly than usual. A shout from a teamster to his mules was cut slightly short, lest it hang too long in the air and attract notice. A mother’s command for a child to come home was short and sharp, followed by a low threatening warning rather than a top-of-the-voice shriek.
‘What do you think is going on?’ asked Locklear.
Just ahead, Arutha spoke quietly to the two squires without looking back. ‘We should find out in a moment.’
The young men looked past their ruler and saw a committee waiting for them at the palace gate. In the forefront was Princess Anita, her smile edged with relief at seeing her husband unharmed before her. Still youthful despite ten years of marriage and motherhood, her red hair was gathered up under a wide white hat, looking more like a sailing ship set atop her head, thought James, than anything else. But it was the current fashion, and one did not make jests at the expense of the Princess, especially not when her second smile was directed at you.
James returned the Princess’s welcoming smile and basked for a moment in its warmth. His boyhood infatuation with Anita had matured into a deep, abiding affection, and while she was too young to be viewed as his surrogate mother, she served as surrogate older sister with ease and humour. And it was clear to all who knew them that she viewed James as the younger brother she never had. It went so far as the Princess’s children calling James ‘Uncle Jimmy’.
At Anita’s right stood twin boys, the Princes Borric and Erland, jostling with one another, as if it were impossible for the two nine-year-olds to remain at rest even for a moment. The red-headed lads were intelligent, James knew, and undisciplined. Some day they would number among the most powerful nobles in the Kingdom, but at present they were simply fractious boys bored with having to act the part of Princes and anxious to be off about whatever mischief they could find. Directly before her mother stood the Princess Elena, four years younger than the boys. Her features were as fine as her mother’s, but her colouring was her father’s, dark and intense. She beamed at the sight of her father riding at the head of his Household Guard. Succumbing to impulse, she pointed and said, ‘There’s Daddy!’
Arutha held up his hand and ordered a halt. Without waiting for official greetings from the Master of Ceremonies, he jumped from his mount and hurried to his family. Embracing his wife, he then turned his attention to his sons and daughter.
James motioned with this chin towards the welcoming guards and whispered to Locklear, ‘Willie’s on duty.’
William, Pug’s son, was a cadet, a young soon-to-be officer who presently was learning his trade. He exchanged glances with James, giving the squire a tiny nod.
The order was given for the company to fall out, and James and Locklear dismounted. Grooms hurried over and took away the tired mounts.
Their duty required the squires to wait upon their Prince’s need, so they moved to stand at Arutha’s right hand.
Anita gifted the young men with a warm greeting, then turned her attention to Arutha. ‘I know I shouldn’t worry. I know you’ll always come back to me.’
Arutha’s smile was both happy and tired. ‘Always.’
A small knot of court officials stood silently behind the royal family, and Arutha nodded greetings. He saw by their expressions that he would be needed in council before he would be permitted the pleasure of a long visit with his family. He noticed the Sheriff of Krondor in attendance, and sighed. That could only mean grave problems in Krondor, for the sheriff, while an important officer in the city, wasn’t properly a member of Arutha’s court. Glancing at Gardan, he said, ‘Marshal, see what the sheriff and the others want, and meet me in my private council chamber in a half hour. I will have this road-dirt off before I sit down to another meeting.’ He smiled at Anita. ‘And I’ll steal a few minutes to speak with my wife and children.’ He leaned over and kissed Anita on the cheek and said, ‘Take the children to our apartment. I’ll be along in a minute, dearest.’
Anita herded the children away, and Arutha motioned to James and Locklear. ‘No rest for the wicked, boys.’ Looking over at the palace guard, he added, ‘Young William looks as if he’s going to pop with news to share, so go find out what’s on his mind. I’m sure I’ll be hearing a different version of the same tale from my officers in council. If something warrants some snooping around in the city, do it, and be back no later than the end of the evening meal.’ Then he looked James in the eyes and said, You know what you must do.’
James nodded. As he led Locklear away, Locklear said, ‘What does that mean?’
‘What?’
‘“You know what you must do?”’
‘Just something Arutha and I have been working on since you were sent north to Tyr-Sog for …’
‘I know why I was banished to Tyr-Sog,’ Locklear said in a tired voice. ‘Too well,’ he added, considering his imminent return to that cold and lonely town on the northern frontier.
James signalled to the guardsman in charge of the trainees, who stood to attention as he shouted, ‘Members of the court!’
The cadets were already at attention, but they seemed to stiffen a bit more as the two squires approached.
James nodded greeting to Swordmaster McWirth. ‘How are the cadets this afternoon, swordmaster?’
‘A worthless lot, squire, but one or two of them may survive to actually be allowed to serve as an officer in my army!’
James smiled wryly at the pointed remark, given that he and the swordmaster had little affection for one another. As a member of Arutha’s court, the young man was not technically part of the army, and trained with weapons with the Prince; in fact, James was Arutha’s favourite duelling partner as he was one of the few in the city as fast as Arutha with a blade. As a squire, he also carried some rank, which meant that often he was put in charge of soldiers who had trained under the swordmaster, and it galled the old soldier.
Still, thought James, McWirth was thorough in his job and the officers he turned out, especially those who were chosen for the élite Royal Household Guards, were fine soldiers, to a man. In his travels, James had seen the worst of the army as well as the best, and he had no doubt these were the among the best in the Western Realm.
‘I need to speak to the Prince’s cousin when you’re done with him, swordmaster.’
The dour old soldier fixed James with a baleful gaze for an instant, and one more time James was thankful he never had to endure the swordmaster’s supervision. McWirth turned and shouted, ‘Dismissed! Cadet William, over here!’
William came to stand before the swordmaster, while the other cadets headed back towards their quarters, and said, ‘Sir!’
‘Member of the court desires your company, it seems.’ He smiled at James and Locklear and said, ‘Good day to you, squires.’
The other cadets hurried off to their duties and McWirth said, ‘And when you’re done, I expect you to catch up with the rest of the cadets, else you’ll be tending your equipment during mess, is that clear?’
‘Sir!’ replied William with a salute. The old swordmaster stalked off and William approached Locklear and James.
James asked, ‘What’s the news?’
‘Lots,’ said William. He was a short man, though taller than his father, with dark brown hair and eyes. The boyish cast to his features had faded in the months since he had come to serve in the Prince’s army and his shoulders had broadened. He was lethally effective with the two-handed sword, a difficult weapon for most soldiers to master, and his horsemanship was considered exceptional. ‘I’m to be commissioned next week!’
‘Congratulations,’ said Locklear. ‘I’m to be exiled.’
William’s eyes narrowed. ‘Again?’
James laughed. ‘Still. Arutha appreciated his reasons for returning without leave, but decided it didn’t warrant an early reprieve from the icy north.’
Frowning, Locklear said, ‘I depart for Tyr-Sog again, tomorrow.’
James said, ‘Something’s funny in the city. What do you hear, Willie?’
Only Arutha’s family, James, and Locklear called William by that nickname, a familiarity he allowed no one else. William said, ‘Odd things. They keep us cadets busy and we don’t get to mix much with the others in the garrison when we’re not training, but you do hear this and that. Seems like an unusually high number of people in the city have been turning up dead this last week.’
James nodded. ‘That would explain the sheriff waiting for the Prince.’
Locklear said, ‘He doesn’t usually do that sort of thing, now that you mention it.’
James was lost in thought a moment. He had crossed paths with Sheriff Wilfred Means on more than one occasion when James had plied his trade as a thief. A few times he had come close to being the sheriff’s guest in the Old Town Jail. The sheriff acknowledged James as the Prince’s squire and treated him with the respect due his office; their relationship was a cold one at best. James suddenly was visited with the image of a younger Wilfred Means glaring up at James as he bolted over the rooftops of the city, the then constable’s ginger-coloured moustache almost quivering with rage at the boy’s escape.
But the sheriff was stalwart in his duty, and tried to keep crime in Krondor as much under control as possible. The city was an orderly one by most any measure James could imagine, and unlike others who held the office before him, Wilfred Means was not a man to take a bribe or barter a favour.
For him to be waiting in person to speak to Arutha as soon as he returned meant something grave had occurred, something the sheriff judged required the Prince’s immediate attention.
‘You get back to your duties,’ said James absently to William. ‘Locky and I had better catch up with Arutha.’
William said, ‘Well, Locky, I will bid you farewell, again, if you’re off for the north in the morning.’
Locklear rolled his eyes theatrically, but took the proffered hand and shook it. ‘Take care of this rascal, William. I would hate to see him get killed when I wasn’t around to watch.’
‘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?’
‘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 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 communiqués 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 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 rumours about their return had begun to circulate. 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 got James killed in a duel, and it was only by dint of hours spent practising 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 neighbours 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 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 towards the royal apartments as the two squires moved in the other direction. When they were 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.’