Erik shifted his weight.
His dress uniform was uncomfortable, and his head still hurt from the blow he had taken the previous week. Now it was merely a dull throb when he turned too quickly or when he was exerting himself, which was every day.
The Novindus mercenaries who had agreed to come over to the King’s service were proving an interesting training problem for Jadow Shati and the other sergeants. Alfred had been promoted to Sergeant, so Erik was depending on a new bully in his company, a Corporal Harper.
As Erik rubbed absently at the back of his head, Calis said, ‘Still hurts?’
Erik said, ‘Less each day, but you were right about that Saaur’s blow. Two inches more and I’d have been cut in half.’
Calis nodded as the Prince and his retinue entered the room. Patrick said, ‘Let’s get this meeting underway.’
Nicholas, uncle to the Prince of Krondor and Admiral in command of the Western Fleet of the Kingdom, said, ‘Our latest intelligence tells us they will absolutely be coming this way: a quick strike through Krondor and over the mountains to Sethanon.’
Patrick nodded. ‘I agree, though my father is still concerned about the possibility we’re being intentionally fed false reports and the fleet will end up sailing around the world to Salador, in an attempt to reach Sethanon from the east.’
‘That was a possibility, but always very unlikely,’ said Calis. ‘Now we know it’s not remotely probable.’
Erik studied the others at the conference, feeling far out of his depth. Sitting next to the Prince was James, Duke of Krondor, and on the Prince’s other side William, Knight-Marshal of Krondor. Owen Greylock, former Swordmaster at Darkmoor and now a Knight-Captain of the King’s Army, sat next to William. Nicholas sat next to James, and Calis between Erik and Nicholas. On Owen’s other side sat a man unknown to Erik, a scribe who wrote down whatever was said in an odd script unlike anything Erik had seen before.
Calis said, ‘Our enemy is many things, but subtle is not one of them. They tried subtle once, when they abducted your cousin Margaret and the others from Crydee.’
Patrick snorted. ‘Sacking the Far Coast wasn’t exactly my idea of subtle.’
‘That’s the point,’ said Calis. ‘Had they abducted a few commoners here and there, and let their infected duplicates wander through Krondor …’
‘Why even bother with the abductions?’ asked James.
‘My point exactly,’ said Calis. ‘They do not think as we do. I doubt we will ever understand them.’ He pointed to the map on the opposite wall, showing the Kingdom from Land’s End to the eastern border outside the city of Ran. ‘Salador and Krondor both present problems, and the route from Salador to Sethanon is easier, but getting to Salador presents many additional problems.
‘It’s a longer journey, which means an additional risk of unexpected damage to stores or to ships by storm. And it’s a route far more likely to bring the Empire’s attention to bear upon the fleet.’
He stood and walked over to the map. He motioned and a servant removed it, replacing it with one in smaller scale, showing the entire world as they knew it. Waving at the bottom half of the map, where Novindus was shown, Calis said, ‘Currents here force anyone coming this way to move in a straight line from the eastern shore of Novindus to a point just southeast of the tip of the Triagia, then they have to move almost due north to strike the southern coast of Kesh. That right-angle route adds a month of travel time. We found that out when we used that Brijaner longship to get to Novindus last time. But crossing the Endless Sea to reach the Bitter Sea from the City of the Serpent River is a direct line by comparison.’ He pointed to the long, curving coast of Kesh on the eastern side of the continent and said, ‘South of the Kingdom Sea the Brijaners and other Keshian raiders trade regularly. Additionally, here,’ – he pointed to the area of the ocean just northeast of the range of mountains called the Girdle of Kesh – ‘is the heaviest concentration of the Empire’s Eastern Fleet. They are not going to sit idly by and watch six hundred hostile ships float past, even if they know the Kingdom is their ultimate target.’ He shook his head. ‘Plus the invasion fleet would have to sail past Roldem and the other Eastern kingdoms who might harry them in their passing.
‘No, they will come this way. The mercenaries we’ve captured all tell of similar assignments: to capture and hold vital points along the mountains, so they can allow additional forces to pass over the ridge unopposed.’
William turned to Admiral Nicholas. ‘Nicky, we’ve talked about the risk of the Straits of Darkness passage …’
Nicholas said, ‘It’s not that risky if you know what you’re doing, even in late fall. Amos Trask and my father once sailed it in the dead of winter.’ He considered. ‘But for this fleet to clear the straits and reach Krondor, they would be best to come through no earlier than late spring or early summer. Midsummer is perfect. The weather’s the best, the tides the most forgiving …’He paused and looked into space.
‘What?’ said Prince Patrick after a minute.
‘I still urge you to let me sail against them before they enter the Bitter Sea.’
Patrick sighed and looked at James. The Duke of Krondor said, ‘Nicky, we’ve been over this territory before.’
‘I know,’ said Nicholas. ‘And I know it’s risky, but think of the benefits!’ He rose, came to stand next to Calis, and motioned to the servant. ‘Give me the larger map.’
At once the scribe stood, removed the map of the world from the wall and rapidly hung another of the same size, but of much larger scale, showing the Western Kingdom and major portions of Kesh and the north, from the Far Coast to Malac’s Cross. Pointing to the Straits of Darkness Nicholas said, ‘They’re bringing six hundred or more ships. They can’t have six hundred captains and crews worth spit.’ He slapped his hand against the wall for emphasis. ‘If we bring the fleet down out of the Sunset Islands or closer in, say, Tulan’ – his finger stabbed at the southernmost city on the Far Coast – ‘we can catch them as they begin to come through the straits. I can put thirty warships of size at their rear and another two or three dozen fast cutters. We sail in, slash them from behind, and sink as many of the wallowing barges they’re carrying their troops in as possible, then when their escort ships turn to fight, we sail off. I don’t care how good their escort ships or captains are, we know the winds and current better than they. We can get away!’ He was the most animated Erik had ever seen him as he said, ‘If we’re fortunate we’ll catch them with their escorts coming through the straits before the troop ships, unable to turn and come back because of their own ships! We could sink a third, perhaps a half of their fleet!’
‘Or if they split their escorts and put half of them at the rear, you could lose every ship we have in the West without doing any real damage,’ said Patrick. He shook his head. ‘Nicky, if we had the Western Imperial Fleet with us, or if Quegan war galleys would sail from the eastern side of the straits, maybe I could see risking this.’ The Prince sighed. ‘We are the smallest sea power in the West.’
‘But we have the best ships and men!’ said Nicholas.
‘I know,’ conceded Patrick, ‘but we don’t have enough of them.’
‘Nor time to build them,’ said William. ‘Pursuing this discussion further is pointless.’
‘Maybe,’ said James.
‘What?’ asked Patrick.
The old Duke smiled. ‘Something you just said. About Queg raiding from the east. I might be able to arrange that.’
‘How?’ asked the Prince.
James said, ‘Let me worry about that.’
Patrick said, ‘Very well. Let me know what you’re dreaming up, though, before you get us into another war with Queg.’
James smiled. ‘I’m waiting for some reports from Queg, and when I have them’ – he turned to Nicky – ‘you can sail your fleet to Tulan. And tell Duke Harry to cut his fleet loose from the Sunset Islands and put it under your flag. That squadron of cutthroats will swell your flotilla to what, fifty ships?’
Nicholas was enthusiastic. ‘Sixty-five!’
James put up a hand in a restraining gesture. ‘Don’t get too carried away. This plot of mine may not work. I’ll let you know one way or another in a month or so.’
Turning to the others at the table, the Prince asked, ‘Anything else?’
‘Why Krondor?’ asked Greylock.
Patrick said, ‘Captain?’
‘I mean, I agree it’s likely they’ll come into the Bitter Sea, but why attack Krondor?’
‘Do you see an alternative?’ asked the Prince.
‘Several,’ answered Greylock. ‘None of them obviously superior, but the two that would appeal to me most if I were the Emerald Queen’s commander would be either to land north of Krondor, keep the defenders bottled up inside the city with a small force, moving the army around the city, then into the East, over the King’s Highway, or to put ashore between Land’s End and Krondor, moving to the south of the city along the Keshian border, then north to the pass to the east. I would lose some portion of my army holding Kingdom forces inside the city, but less than in a full assault.’
Patrick said, ‘William?’
‘We’ve considered it, but there’s nothing in our reports that would indicate this General Fadawah, who commands for the Queen, is inclined to leave anything alive behind his lines.’
‘Food?’ suggested Erik.
‘Pardon?’ asked the Prince of Krondor.
‘I’m sorry, Highness, but it seems to me that with all the numbers of ships and men we’ve had tossed about over the last few years, if they’re bringing even as few as six hundred ships … I could show you my calculations, but I think they’re going to be out of food when they get here.’
Nicholas said, ‘Yes, that’s it!’ He pointed to the island nation of Queg. ‘They can’t raid Queg for food, nor down here along the Jal-Pur Desert. No, they need to sack Krondor to provision their army before they move east.’
Patrick said, ‘I agree. Which is why, if James’s plan doesn’t work, I want the fleet deployed to the north near Sarth. When they attempt to come ashore, that’s when you harry them.’
Nicholas swore. ‘Damn it, Patrick, that’s the worst time! You know they’ll bring their fastest ships into skirmish along their perimeter. They’ll need only one or two large warships to break through whatever we have at the harbor mouth if we take all our big ships up the coast. Then they sail their troop ships into the harbor and seize the city! You can’t have it both ways, Patrick. If you want me to defend the city, my fleet needs to be equally divided between ships inside the harbor and those defending outside the seawall.’
Erik said, ‘Excuse me.’
‘Yes?’ said Patrick.
‘If it’s not too late, you could change the way ships enter the harbor.’
James grinned. ‘We’re already working on that, Sergeant Major. We’re going to make them come to a complete right-angle turn through a new set of breakwaters–’
‘No, m’lord,’ interrupted Erik. ‘I mean build another wall along the northern jetty to the harbor, put a sea gate in between the new wall and the old one, make them sail against the wind, not with the currents at the old breakwater, so they’re as slow as can be when they have to turn into the harbor proper. Maybe even have it so they have to be towed around.’
‘Why the new wall?’ asked Calis.
‘Catapults and ballista platforms,’ answered Greylock. ‘Burning anything coming around that corner that doesn’t fly Kingdom colors.’
‘If you sink the first two or three ships as they come in …’ said Nicholas.
‘They’ll have to turn away from the harbor and land on the beaches to the north of the city!’ finished Patrick.
‘Or attempt to land on the wall itself!’ said William. ‘Sergeant Major, I’m impressed.’
Patrick looked at Duke James. ‘Can we do it?’
‘We can, but it will be expensive to do it in time. And the merchants will set up a howl about the inconvenience.’
Patrick said, ‘Let them.’
A door opened and a squire in the livery of the palace entered, carrying a document to Duke James. He opened it and read. ‘They’ve sailed!’
Patrick said, ‘We’re certain?’
Duke James nodded to Calis, who said, ‘We left a few agents behind after the fall of the City of the Serpent River. It’s been more difficult to get intelligence out of that region, but we left behind one fast ship, and our best crew, in a safe location. It took a messenger two days by fast horse to reach our ship, then the ship left at once. We know it’s faster than anything the Queen has, and they’re moving at the speed of the slowest ship in the flotilla.’ He calculated, then looked around the table. ‘They will be at the Straits just before Midsummer’s Day.’
James said, ‘That leaves us three months to prepare.’
Patrick said, ‘Do what you must, and let me know the details of this Quegan plot of yours as soon as possible.’ He stood and the others in the room rose. ‘This meeting is adjourned.’
Duke James motioned Erik over to his side. ‘Sir?’ said Erik.
‘Send a note to that friend of yours and tell him to get here as soon as possible. I think I need Mr Avery to run an errand for me.’
Erik nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
After Erik had left, James beckoned to William. ‘It’s time to tell young von Darkmoor the truth, I think.’
Owen Greylock, who had followed William to the Duke’s side, said, ‘He won’t like it.’
‘But he’ll follow orders,’ said William. ‘He’s the best.’
James smiled. ‘He is that, isn’t he? We’re lucky to have him.’ James’s smile faded after a moment. ‘I wish others could be as lucky as that.’
William said, ‘If there were any other way …’
James held up his hand. ‘I believe we shall see more pain and destruction in the next half year than the Kingdom has known in its history. But when the smoke settles, there will still be a Kingdom. And a world. And those who survive will be the luckiest of all.’
‘I hope we may be among them,’ said Greylock.
With a bitter note, James said, ‘Don’t count on it, my friend. Don’t count on it.’ Without further words, the Duke departed.
‘Again?’ said Roo. ‘Why?’
‘Because I need you to buy more Quegan fire oil.’
‘But, Your Grace,’ said Roo, as he sat uncomfortably before the Duke of Krondor. ‘I can send a message to Lord Vasarius –’
‘No, I think you need to go in person.’
Roo’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not going to tell me what this is about, are you?’
‘What you don’t know can’t be tortured out of you, can it?’
Roo didn’t care for that answer. ‘When do you wish me to leave?’
‘Next week. I have a few things I must do before then, and then off you’ll go. It’ll be a short trip, don’t worry.’
Roo stood. ‘If you say so.’
‘I do. Now good day.’
‘Good day, my lord,’ said Roo, and his tone showed he was less than pleased to have to endure another visit with his erstwhile partner. It wasn’t that Lord Vasarius was not a hospitable man, but his idea of hospitality was to bore his guest with interminable stories over bad food and wine. And that daughter of his! Roo thought she was enough to make him give up women. Then he thought of Sylvia, and he amended that to almost enough to make him give up women.
As he left the Duke’s private chambers, another door opened and a squire said, ‘Lord Vencar, Your Grace.’
‘Send him in, please.’
A moment later, Arutha entered the room, still covered with road dust. ‘Father,’ he said in greeting.
James kissed his son on the cheek. ‘Is it done?’
Arutha grinned and for a moment James saw a hint of himself in his son. ‘It’s done.’
James struck his fist into the palm of his left hand. ‘Finally! Something is going our way. Is Nakor willing?’
‘More than willing,’ said Arutha. ‘That madman would have done it simply for the pleasure of seeing the faces of those other magicians when it happens, I’m certain, but he also understands we have to protect our southern flank.’
James regarded the map in his office. ‘That’s one problem.’
‘There’s another,’ said Arutha.
‘What?’
‘I want Jimmy and Dash out of the city.’
James waved away the request. ‘I need them here.’
‘I mean it, Father. They have your impossible sense of immortality, and if you leave it up to them, they’ll cut things too close and be trapped in the city when it falls. You know that’s true.’
James studied his son’s face, and sighed. He sat behind the desk and said, ‘All right. When the Queen’s fleet is sighted off Land’s End, send them away. Where do you want them to go?’
‘Their mother is visiting family in Roldem.’
‘That’s convenient,’ said James dryly.
‘Very,’ said Arutha. ‘Look, you and I stand scant chance of surviving this. You can lie to me, even yourself, but you can’t lie to Mother.’
James nodded.
‘She’s had a look on her face I’ve not seen before, ever, and I’ve seen her go through most everything I can imagine.’ He met his father’s gaze with an unwavering one in return and said, ‘Being a member of your family provides ample opportunity to test one’s temperament.’
James grinned, and for a moment he looked like the young father who had told stories of Jimmy the Hand when Arutha was a child. ‘But it’s never been dull, has it?’
Arutha shook his head. ‘Never that.’ Then he studied his father. ‘You’re staying to the end, aren’t you?’
James said, ‘This is my home. I was born here.’ If there was any regret in his statement, he hid it well.
‘You plan on dying here?’
James said, ‘I don’t plan on dying, but if I must, I wouldn’t be anywhere else.’ He slapped the desk with the palm of his hand. ‘Look, there are a lot of things we can’t plan on, and staying alive until tomorrow is one of them. Life has shown me all too often it’s a fragile gift. Remember, no one gets out of life alive.’ He stood up. ‘Go get refreshed and come have dinner with me. Your mother will be pleased to see you again. If I can get word to your sons we’ll have a family dinner.’
‘That would be nice,’ said Arutha.
He left, and after the door was closed, James crossed the room to another door, slipping through. He moved down a corridor to a small door where he had to duck his head to pass through. Down a flight of twisting stairs and through another long corridor. He reached a door and tested the handle, finding it locked. He knocked twice, then when a single knock came from the other side, he knocked again. The latch clicked and the door swung open.
Behind the door he found Dash and Jimmy, and a pair of men wearing unmarked uniforms and black hoods with eye slits. Inside the room, instruments of torture were waiting, and along the wall empty shackles hung. A man sat tied to a heavy wooden chair, his head slumped forward on his chest.
‘Anything?’ asked James.
‘Nothing,’ said Dash.
‘Get back to your employer. I’ve just told him you’re going to Queg again. He’s not very happy and will be even less so when he discovers you’re not at the office doing whatever it is he pays you to do.’
Dash said, ‘Queg? Again?’
James nodded. ‘I’ll explain later.’
As Dash reached the door, James said, ‘Oh, by the way, your father’s back, so join us for dinner tonight.’
Dash nodded and the door closed. His grandfather said to Jimmy, ‘Revive him.’
Jimmy threw a cup of water into the man’s face and he roused. James grabbed the man by the hair and looked him in the eyes. ‘Your masters would have been kinder had they not put those blocks around your mind. My wife lies abed with a nasty headache and that puts me in a foul temper. So we must do this the old-fashioned way.’
He nodded to the two torturers. They knew their craft and quickly and efficiently set about applying the tools of their trade. The prisoner, an agent of the Emerald Queen picked up the day before, began to scream.
Roo attempted to look alert as Vasarius told a remarkably boring story of a deal negotiated with a trading combine from the Free Cities. The story itself didn’t hold Roo’s attention. He was more curious about matters of business than anyone he knew, and the particulars of the trade were unusual, but Vasarius managed to tell the story in the most convoluted, tedious way, denuding it of anything remotely like personality, color, or humor. What held Roo’s interest was the very ineptitude of his storytelling. Roo at this point no longer had any idea who the principals were, why they were enmeshed in this contract, or even what the transaction was about, or why this story was supposed to be funny, but he was certain that with a little urging on his part, Vasarius could make it even more pointless and rambling before he finished.
‘And then?’ Roo supplied, causing Vasarius to launch into another parenthetical exposition on some topic that was, to him and him alone in the world, somehow relevant. Roo let his gaze wander to Livia, who seemed to be involved in some sort of silent communication with Jimmy. Roo wasn’t sure, but the girl seemed somehow put out with Roo’s personal secretary, and Roo wondered what had passed between them on their last visit. To hear Jimmy tell it, he had been the complete gentleman, even to the point of ignoring hints that might have led to a sexual encounter.
Aware suddenly that Vasarius had become silent, Roo said, ‘My, my. How fascinating,’ without missing a beat.
‘Very,’ said the Quegan noble. ‘You don’t play fast and loose with Lord Venchenzo’s cargo and then go brag on it.’
Roo thought he better discreetly ask around who Lord Venchenzo might be, so if the topic ever came up again, he might have at least a hint to what this story had been about.
The meal was at last over, and Vasarius sent Jimmy off with his daughter and offered Roo a rather decent brandy. ‘It’s one of the ones you were kind enough to send me,’ explained the Quegan noble.
Roo thought he’d have to send him something a little better, against the possibility he was going to be ordered back here one more time. After they had sipped the brandy, Vasarius asked, ‘What’s the real reason for your visit?’
Roo said, ‘Well, I do need additional oil.’
‘You could have sent me a purchase order, Rupert. You didn’t need to come here personally.’
Roo looked into his cup. As if weighing his words, he hesitated; the truth was James had rehearsed him relentlessly until he was perfect in what he was to say next: ‘Actually, I need a favor.’
‘What is it?’
‘I’m sure your Empire has agents, or at least “friends” who pass along certain types of intelligence.’
‘I would be insulting you if I claimed otherwise. No nation on Midkemia is without such resources.’
‘Then you may have wondered about the buildup of military forces in the Kingdom.’
‘It has come to our attention that a great many military projects are under way.’
Roo sighed. ‘The truth is there are reports from Kingdom agents in Kesh that the Emperor is thinking of reclaiming the Vale of Dreams.’
Vasarius shrugged. ‘So what else is new? The Kingdom and Kesh fight over the Vale like two sisters over a favorite gown.’
‘There’s a bit more. It looks like Kesh may launch a full assault toward Krondor, with an eye to cutting off all roads between Krondor and Land’s End.’
Vasarius said, ‘If true, that would isolate Land’s End.’
‘Not to mention cutting off Shamata and Landreth, and giving the Empire control of Stardock.’
‘Ah,’ said Vasarius. ‘The magicians.’
Roo nodded. ‘The Kingdom considers them something of an unknown factor.’
‘As well you should,’ said Vasarius. ‘We have our own magicians, here within the Empire, but all are willing servants of the Imperial Court.’
Roo mentally added the ‘or else they’re dead’ part.
Vasarius continued. ‘That many magicians, unsupervised, could prove troublesome.’
‘Well, be that as it may, the point is we’re going to be putting men and materiel into Krondor in abundance. We’re going to be shipping troops from Ylith and other parts of Yabon, as well as in from the Far Coast.’
‘You still haven’t given me any inkling of what this has to do with me.’
‘I’m coming to that.’ Roo cleared his throat dramatically. ‘We need to protect certain critical shipments and, well, it would benefit us if they were carried on Quegan ships, as the Empire of Great Kesh is less likely to expect such cargo to be carried on Quegan galleys.’
‘Ah,’ said Vasarius, and fell silent.
‘I need a dozen heavily armed war galleys in Carse by the third week after Banapis.’
‘A dozen!’ Vasarius’s eyes widened. ‘What are you carrying?’
‘Weapons and other items.’
Roo could see the eyes of the man spinning with greed. Roo knew that Vasarius was assuming it was a huge shipment of gold, coming down from the Grey Towers, mined by the dwarves and exchanged for Kingdom goods, to be shipped to Krondor to pay soldiers. Which was exactly what Duke James wanted him to think. Roo knew Vasarius would assume twelve war galleys were far too much security for a weapons shipment.
Vasarius said, ‘Which means they’d have to leave here three weeks before the Festival of Midsummer.’ He calculated. ‘That would put them in the Straits of Darkness about Midsummer’s Day. It would mean you need the gold in Krondor two months after Midsummer.’
‘More or less,’ said Roo, pretending to ignore Vasarius’s reference to the gold.
‘A dozen Imperial galleys will prove costly.’
‘How costly?’ asked Roo.
Vasarius gave him a figure, and Roo haggled half-heartedly in an attempt to look as if he was trying to beat down the price. Roo knew that the gold would never be paid to Queg, because Vasarius intended to steal the shipment, and there wasn’t any gold in any event. There would be six hundred hostile ships showing up about then, however. And Roo knew that Vasarius wouldn’t send twelve galleys, he’d send every one he controlled, which could amount to two dozen or better if he could recall them to Queg in time to pass along orders.
They talked into the night, and Roo wished the brandy were better. Absently he wondered how Jimmy was getting on with Livia.
Jimmy licked the blood on his lip and said, ‘What?’
Livia slapped him again and then bit him hard on the neck as she said, ‘Oh, I wish you barbarians spoke a civilized tongue!’
The girl sat astride Jimmy, with her toga pulled down around her waist. Jimmy was drunk on drugged wine and trying to keep his wits, but the combination of narcotics, alcohol, and a young, healthy, half-naked woman attempting to have sex with him was making it difficult for him to keep his focus. It was all he could do to pretend he didn’t understand her language.
At some point Jimmy got the impression that Livia was furious with him for not having tried to make love to her on their last visit. He was certain that was more for the lost opportunity of rejecting him than for any lust for him, but given how temperamental this Quegan lady was, Jimmy couldn’t be sure. At the present it was clear that she was trying to prove a different point to him, one which seemed to involve a lot of slapping, some biting, and a lot of promises that he would never be able to make love to another woman after having Livia. In a semi-comatose state, Jimmy fervently hoped the last was not true. Though the way she was jumping up and down on him made him think there might be enough permanent damage to prevent him from being interested in testing the claim for some time to come.
He said, ‘Enough!’ and tried to sit up, which got him another ringing slap across the face. As tears came to his eyes, Livia started tearing his clothing off.
Somewhere along the way he remembered getting serious scratches on his back and buttocks, and at another point someone – a servant he thought – threw a bucket of very hot water on them, followed by one which was very cold. Then Livia was doing interesting things with a feather and a jelly made from gooseberries.
Finally, as they lay exhausted in each other’s arms, she mumbled something about never having known anyone like him. Jimmy never considered himself a lady’s man, for although he loved women and their company, having a grandmother who read minds taught a young man things about women few men even imagined. For years, every time he glanced at a comely wench with a lustful intent, his grandmother would drag him off for a lecture on his attitude toward women. It took a while, but he finally came to look upon women as friends and enemies, just like men, except when he was sleeping with them, when they were decidedly unlike men, for which he was eternally grateful.
This one was something outside his experience, however, and he wasn’t sure he welcomed any repeat of the experience. Knowing he’d been drugged, he had practiced some of the mental techniques taught him by his grandmother, and when the girl had started her questioning, he had started telling lies.
By now Jimmy was certain that when she and her father compared notes, the plan conceived by Jimmy’s grandfather would swing into motion. He tried not to laugh, for every part of him hurt too much to move. As he let sleep overtake him, he wondered how Dash was doing.
‘Ah, you’re a lying sack of dung, and a Kingdom dog to boot, and that’s a fact.’ The sailor looked at Dash with a challenge.
Dash stood up, dramatically swaying far more than was due to anything he had drunk. He had years before mastered the art of appearing to drink more than he had, and he could pass himself off as a drunk as well as any actor. The trick was to get a tiny bit of pepper or ale on your finger, rub your eyes, and get them red. His grandfather had taught him that trick. ‘No one calls me a liar!’ He glared at the Quegan sailor. ‘I told you I saw it! With me own eyes!’ He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘And I can tell you when and where, too.’
‘When and where what?’ asked another of the card players.
Dash had returned to the dockside tavern he had visited on their last voyage to Queg – where he had established his identity as a Kingdom sailor with a night off – and had entered a friendly game of Pashawa. After winning a little and losing a little, he had started to win, just enough to keep people paying attention to him.
Finally a couple of local card sharks had shown up and asked to join the game. As he expected, Dash was offered round after round of drink, in the hope his card sense would be dulled.
He accommodated them, and lost enough money to keep them around, then won back enough to keep them interested. While he played, he talked.
‘Like I told you: my father sailed with Prince Nicholas and Amos Trask himself! He was the first to reach the land across the Endless Sea.’
‘There is no such place,’ scoffed a Quegan sailor.
‘How would you know?’ retorted Dash. ‘You’re a bunch of coast huggers. Not a deep-water sailor in this entire nation.’
That got him the undivided attention of every man in the inn. Several were ready to teach him manners should he start insulting their homeland. Dash started talking to his captive audience. ‘It’s true! For almost twenty years the Prince of Krondor has had men down there tradin’ with the natives! They’re a simple people, who worship the sun, and even their children wear gold trinkets and play with toys fashioned from gold. The Prince has them mining gold for glass beads. I’ve seen the gold. With me own eyes! It’s the largest cargo in the world, enough gold to fill this room. More! As tall as two men, one upon the other’s shoulders, it was. And at the base, it filled a room twice the size of this inn.’
‘There isn’t that much gold in the world,’ said the man who had named himself Gracus. He was a skilled gambler, and Dash suspected a confidence man, a thief, and a potential murderer. But for Dash’s purpose he possessed the signal ingredient of nature: he was greedy to a fare-thee-well.
‘Look, I tell you this: when Mr Avery’s ship leaves here, and after we take him back to Krondor, we’re going out with every ship of the fleet, beyond the Straits of Darkness. Why?’
The men muttered as several asked why.
‘Because the biggest fleet of treasure ships in the history of the world is headin’ this way, even as we sit here gabbin’, and it’s going to come through the Straits on Banapis.’
‘Midsummer’s Day?’ asked Gracus.
‘Think on it!’ said Dash. ‘Where will your galleys be? Where will all those Keshian pirates from Durbin be?’
One of the sailors said, ‘He’s got a point, Gracus. Our ships will be in port so the crews can celebrate. Even the galley slaves get a drink of wine that day.’
‘And it’s true in Durbin,’ said another. ‘I’ve sailed into that port on Midsummer’s Day, and if there’s a crewman sober by sundown, he’s not trying.’
Gracus said, ‘That may be all well and good, but it’s still a little difficult to believe.’
Dash glanced around the room, as if looking to see he wasn’t being watched, which was difficult to do with a straight face when every man in the room was watching him closely. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a small purse. He opened it up and let the contents fall on the table.
A tiny whistle and a small top fell with a clatter, and Gracus picked up the whistle. ‘Gold,’ he whispered.
‘I traded a copper piece to a little boy for that whistle,’ said Dash. ‘And he was glad to have it. He’d never seen copper before, but gold was everywhere.’
The top and whistle had been fashioned from some of the King’s currency, melted and reforged, and James had sent back the items twice because the goldsmith couldn’t get it through his head that the Duke wanted them to look crudely fashioned. Dash took the whistle away from Gracus. ‘This boy gave me a voyage’s pay in gold for a copper piece.
‘I’ve seen other men come back from there with enough gold in their kit to retire for life to a gentleman’s farm in the country, that’s the truth.’ He glanced around the room. ‘If any of you lads have visited the Anchor and Dolphin in Krondor, Dawson who runs it, why he got the gold to open that inn by trading his clothes to the natives. Came back smelling like a skunk, ’cause he didn’t have a change of clothing for three months, but he came back rich.’
Dash could see he had them, and he knew that whatever doubt might linger in the minds of some of these men would be far outweighed by the desire to believe in others. By the time Banapis arrived, every Quegan pirate crew able to sail would be waiting at the Straits of Darkness.
Putting away his trinkets, Dash decided he’d better lose enough to have to give those trinkets away to the winner of the pot, for the story would be more convincing with physical evidence. Additionally, he thought, as he glanced around the room at a gallery of naked greed, if he was broke he stood a far better chance of getting back to his ship alive.
Pug said, ‘Are you ready?’
Macros and Miranda nodded, and held hands.
Nakor said good-bye to Sho Pi and gripped Macros and Pug’s hands, one in each of his own. Pug and Miranda joined hands and the circle was closed.
Pug incanted and suddenly they were standing in a courtyard, high up in the mountains somewhere. A startled monk dropped a bucket of water he was carrying and stood open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Pug looked at him and said, ‘We need to see the Abbot.’
The monk could not bring himself to speak, only nodding and running off. They waited while several monks poked their heads through windows to get a look at the intruders.
Macros said, ‘I suspect you know what you’re doing?’
‘Cooperation between magicians and clerics is rare, but it has happened in the past,’ said Pug.
They stood in the courtyard of the Abbey of Ishap at Sarth, in the mountains north of Krondor. Pug had visited there occasionally, after having made the acquaintance of the present Abbot, who had been a simple priest then.
A moment later a grey-haired man about Pug’s height, and looking to be in his late seventies, moved briskly toward them. At his side a younger cleric, carrying a war hammer and bearing a shield upon his arm, approached. When the man got close enough to recognize Pug he called him by name.
‘Hello, Dominic. It’s been a very long time.’
The Abbot of Sarth nodded. ‘Nearly thirty years, I believe.’ Glancing at Pug’s three companions, he said, ‘I expect this isn’t a social visit.’ He turned to his companion. ‘Put away your weapons, Brother Michael. There is no threat.’
As the warrior priest walked away, Dominic said, ‘You’ve really injured his pride, Pug. You went through his protective wards as if they weren’t there.’
Pug smiled. ‘They weren’t. Tell him to put some below the libraries in the mountain. We came through the floor.’
Dominic smiled. ‘I’ll tell him. Would you care to join me for some refreshments and tell me what this is all about?’
Macros said, ‘We need your knowledge, Abbot. And we may not speak safely here.’
The Abbot said, ‘And you are … ?’
Pug said, ‘Dominic, this is Macros the Black.’
If Dominic was impressed by the name, he did not show it. ‘Your reputation precedes you.’
‘I am Nakor, and this is Miranda.’
Dominic bowed to the two of them. ‘This abbey may be the safest place in Midkemia – if we get those wards established under the library,’ he said with a slight smile.
Pug said, ‘For what we need to discuss, there is no safe place on Midkemia.’
‘Do you propose to take me to another world, as you did so many years ago?’
‘Exactly,’ said Pug. ‘Only this time you won’t be tortured.’
‘That’s a relief.’ He studied Pug. ‘You haven’t changed, but I have. I’m an old man, and I need a persuasive reason to leave this world at my age.’
Pug considered his reply. ‘We need to talk about your most precious secret.’
Instantly Dominic’s eyes narrowed. ‘If you’re fishing for something, I will not break my oath, so tell me what you know.’
Macros said, ‘We know the truth of the Seven-Pointed Star, and the Cross within it. We know the fifth star is dead, as is the sixth.’ Lowering his voice, he said, ‘And the seventh star is not dead.’
Dominic remained motionless for an instant, then turned to a nearby monk. ‘I will be going with these people. Tell Brother Gregory he is in charge as long as I’m absent. Tell him also to send the sealed chest in my study to the High Father at our temple in Rillanon.’ The monk bowed his head and hurried off to carry out the Abbot’s wishes.
‘Let us leave,’ said Dominic, and they formed a circle.
Pug said, ‘Macros, I have the power, but not the knowledge.’
Macros said, ‘I have both. Follow me.’
Suddenly they were gone, and around them a void could be sensed, rather than felt or seen.
Miranda’s thoughts came to Pug. ‘When I first entered the Hall of Worlds I asked Boldar Blood what happens when you step into the void.’
Pug’s thoughts returned out of the featureless grey. ‘This is the void between realities. Here nothing exists.’
‘There is something,’ came the thoughts of Macros. ‘There is no place in the universe without something residing within. It may not be apparent to those who pass through, but there are creatures that live within the void.’
‘Fascinating,’ came Nakor’s thoughts, and the word was tinged with excitement.
Suddenly they were in a star-filled night of pure black, encapsuled in a bubble of air, warmth, and gravity. Below them, swimming through the void, was a place Pug had never thought to visit again. ‘The City Forever,’ he said.
‘What alien beauty,’ said Nakor. Pug glanced at the Isalani and saw his eyes wide with wonder.
‘It is that,’ said Pug.
The city spread out below in a twisted symmetry, one that sought to capture the eye, but somehow eluded it. Towers and minarets that looked too slender to support their own weight rose up against the vault of the City’s self-contained sky. Arches that could have soared miles above Krondor’s highest rooftop spanned the vast distance between buildings of alien design.
Downward they sped, yet they felt no sense of movement, save what they saw with their eyes. ‘Who built this place?’ asked Miranda.
‘No one,’ said Macros. ‘At least, no one within this reality.’
‘What do you mean, Father?’
Macros shrugged. ‘This place was here when our universe came into being. Pug, Tomas, and I witnessed the birth of what we know as our reality. This place was already here.’
‘An artifact of an earlier reality?’ suggested Nakor.
‘Perhaps,’ said Macros. ‘Or something that simply is because it needs to be.’
Dominic had remained silent but now asked, ‘Why this strange and incomprehensible place, Pug?’
Pug said, ‘Because it is perhaps the only place we may speak freely and not fall prey to the agency behind all the woe and destruction unleashed upon our world.’
They moved over a vast square, many times the size of the city of Krondor, where city-size tiles changed color in a hypnotic pattern. As they approached the surface of the street, they saw the pattern echoed in streets that left the enormous square.
Miranda said, ‘It’s a city. It has buildings, what look to be houses, and yet it is devoid of life.’
‘Don’t make that assumption, Daughter.’ Macros pointed. ‘That fountain may be a decorative creation, or it may be a life form so alien to our understanding that we will never communicate with it.’
‘What if the city is the life form?’ asked Nakor.
‘Possible.’
Dominic said, ‘Why would the gods create such a place?’
‘Depends on which gods we’re talking about,’ said Macros.
The orb settled across a gulf of the void, onto a lush green lawn surrounded by trees and plants, all beautifully tended. Then the orb vanished.
‘This may be the most remote corner of reality,’ said Macros. ‘The Garden.’
Pug said, ‘Now we may speak, but first there is something I must do.’
‘What?’ said Miranda.
But Pug had already closed his eyes and was mumbling an incantation. Everyone present felt a fey energy gather around Pug, then suddenly it was gone and he opened his eyes.
Miranda’s eyes narrowed. ‘This is a powerful spell of blocking. Why do we need protection from eavesdropping in this remote corner of reality?’
‘All will be made clear,’ Pug answered. He looked at the Abbot. ‘It is time,’ Pug said to Dominic.
‘What would you know?’ asked the Abbot of Sarth.
‘The truth,’ said Pug. ‘Ishap is dead.’
Dominic nodded. ‘Since the time of the Chaos Wars.’
Miranda said, ‘Ishap, the One Above All? The Greatest of All the Gods is dead?’
Pug said, ‘I’ll explain. Nearly forty years ago, an agency of some unknown origin sought to destroy an artifact of the Ishapians, a magical gem known as the Tear of the Gods.’
Dominic nodded. ‘This is not widely known. Only Prince Arutha, a few of his trusted advisers, and Pug knew of the theft.
‘To understand the importance of that attempt, you must know something of the nature of the gods and their role in Midkemian life.’
Macros said, ‘Dominic, explain to Miranda and Nakor.’
Dominic spied a bench nearby and said, ‘I’ll sit, if you don’t mind.’
They followed him there. The old Abbot sat, Nakor and Miranda sat at his feet, and Pug and Macros remained standing. Dominic said, ‘At the time of the Chaos Wars, a new order came into existence on Midkemia. Before the Chaos Wars, a primal force of creation and one of destruction ruled hand in glove; these forces were worshiped by the Valheru as Rathar and Mythar, She Who Is Order, and He Who Is Chaos, the Two Blind Gods of the Beginning.
‘But with their raiding across the heavens, the Valheru were an unintentional agent of change. For each realm they visited, each realm they connected with the one of their birth, they created ripples in the time stream and changes in how the universe was ordered.
‘The Chaos Wars were an upheaval on a cosmic scale, as the universes sought to reorder themselves in a fashion more finely drawn, more clearly delineated than before, and as a result, the gods arose.’
Dominic looked from face to face. ‘Each world in the cosmos, each planet and star in the multitude of universes shares a common property, energies existing on a multitude of levels. Many of these worlds gave form to those energies as consciousness, while others formed what we call magic. Some have no life as we think of it, while others are teeming. In the end, each world sought out its own level.’
Nakor seemed riveted by this. ‘But they are all connected, right?’
Dominic said, ‘Ultimately, they are, and therein lies the heart of this matter.
‘When the gods came into existence they ordered themselves in ways we can only guess at; but as time passed they took on properties that clearly revealed their natures. For the most part, they were organic things, if energy or mind can be called organic, that is to say, without consciousness as we think of it.’
Macros nodded. ‘I know that for certain.’
Dominic continued. ‘Seven beings existed, who had ultimate responsibility for the ordering of Midkemia. They were given names by mankind, though what they think of themselves is beyond our ability to know. They were Abrem-Sev, the Forger of Actions; Ev-Dem, the Worker from Within; Graff, the Weaver of Wishes; and Helbinor, the Abstainer.
‘These are the four remaining Greater Gods,’ said Dominic, ‘those who survived the Chaos Wars when the Lesser Gods rose and the Valheru last flew Midkemia’s sky.’
‘What caused the Chaos Wars?’ asked Nakor. ‘Why did the Lesser Gods rebel against the Greater Gods?’
‘No one knows,’ said Dominic. ‘Mankind was young on this world, having fled to Midkemia from other worlds as the Valheru raged across the multiverse.’
‘The Mad God,’ said Macros.
Nakor said, ‘Who is he?’
‘The Unnamed,’ supplied Pug. ‘And the reason we’re here.’
Miranda said, ‘You said seven greater beings existed, yet you named only four.’
Dominic nodded. ‘Originally, there were seven. Besides the four we call the Builders, there were three others. Arch-Indar, the Selfless, the Goddess of Good, was she who drove every creative and positive impulse on our world. We think she sacrificed herself to ultimately banish the Unnamed from Midkemia.’
Miranda said, ‘So who is Ishap?’
‘He was the most powerful of all the Greater Gods,’ said Dominic. ‘He was the Balancer, the Matrix, the one whose ultimate task was to keep the other gods in their places.’
‘Who is this seventh god,’ asked Miranda, ‘this Unnamed?’
Pug said, ‘Nalar.’
There was a momentary silence and Pug said, ‘That’s a relief.’
‘What’s a relief?’ asked Miranda.
Dominic said, ‘Nalar is unnamed, for even to say his name is to risk becoming his tool. He has been cast out by the other four Greater Gods, to keep something of a balance, while we labor to return Ishap to life.’
Miranda said, ‘So you’re praying every day, trying to return the Greatest of All the Gods to life?’
‘Yes.’
Miranda said, ‘Have you anticipated how much longer you need to do this?’
‘Centuries,’ said Macros. ‘Millennia, even. Our lives are but passing moments in the age of the universe.’
Dominic said, ‘This is so. This is why those who worship Ishap are the self-appointed keepers of Knowledge. Wodar-Hospur, the God of Knowledge, also died in the Chaos Wars, and knowledge serves us in attempting to return the order of the universe to what it needs be.’
Miranda said, ‘This is incredible.’
Pug said, ‘I know. It means that what I’ve been living through – the Riftwar, the Great Uprising, this constant attacking by the Pantathians, all of which is apparently some plot by the trapped Valheru to gain their freedom – all of it is simply a ruse.’
‘By Nalar?’ said Miranda.
‘What would he gain by the destruction of the world?’ said Nakor.
Dominic said, ‘You do not understand the nature of the gods. No man does. It is his nature to do that which man calls “evil.” He is an agent of destruction much as Arch-Indar was an agent of creation. To destroy, tear down, and render all life to a basic form is as much a part of his nature as it was of Mythar, the ancient God of Chaos. But it is more, for while Mythar was mindless, Nalar has a mind, a consciousness. More to the point, a self-consciousness.
‘While the other Controller Gods were alive, all was in balance. And his tendencies to destroy and cause evil were kept in check by a mind aware of its own purpose, and by the forces of Ishap and Arch-Indar, supported by the other four, the Builders.
‘But during the Chaos Wars, Nalar went mad.’
Pug said, ‘Another name for the Chaos Wars is the Time of the Mad God’s Rage.’
‘Or perhaps,’ said Nakor, ‘it was his madness that caused the Chaos Wars.’
‘We’ll never know,’ said Dominic. Glancing around the circle of faces, he said, ‘Even so powerful a company as this is trivial compared to the might we’re discussing.’
‘We are candles to their stars,’ said Macros.
‘But a lifeless world is no problem for a god who exists for eons,’ said Dominic. ‘Life is persistent, and eventually it would return to Midkemia, either arising in the lifeless soil and water of its own accord, or brought there from other worlds, and as it waited, the dead world of Midkemia would provide Nalar with an opportunity to escape his prison, for the other gods would be weakened. The Lesser Gods would probably die with the planet – they are agents who work between living beings and the Greater Gods – and the Greater Gods would be greatly reduced in strength.’
‘Why didn’t the other gods simply destroy Nalar?’ asked Miranda.
‘They couldn’t,’ said Dominic. ‘He was too powerful.’
Miranda sat back on her heels. ‘Too powerful?’
‘Yes,’ answered Dominic. ‘The entropic nature of destruction, the forces used by Nalar, are the most powerful in the universe. Without Arch-Indar and Ishap, the Builders could not destroy him. They could shut him away. He is entombed under a mountain as large as the world of Midkemia, upon a planet the size of our sun, in a universe as distant from our own as can be imagined, yet he is still powerful enough to reach out and influence the minds of his servants.’
Pug spoke. ‘Those who serve him often have no idea on whose behalf they labor. They have need to do things, but no reason.’
Dominic said, ‘The other gods gave to my order the Tear of the Gods. It is why we have any power at all. All clerical magic is prayers answered, but with Ishap dead, we have no one to answer our prayers.’
‘So every one hundred years, this mystic gem is born, in a cave high in the mountains,’ said Pug, ‘and it is transported to Rillanon, where it is placed in the inner sanctum of the Temple of Ishap.’
Dominic said, ‘It is there so we may speak to the other gods, and so we may work magic and do good works, and cause men to come to the worship of Ishap so that someday he will return to us and restore the balance.’
‘But until then,’ said Macros, ‘we have a problem.’
Miranda said, ‘That’s one way of putting it. Let me try another: the Valheru, the demons, the wars and destruction, all are tiny diversionary tactics by a Mad God who is so powerful that the other Greater Gods and Lesser Gods combined can’t destroy him, so it’s up to us to face him?’
Macros said, ‘Something like that.’
Miranda could only sit in stunned silence.