ROO SNEEZED.
Erik sipped at a hot cup of Keshian coffee. They were sitting in a large hut near the beach, warming themselves before a fire while their clothing was drying on a line strung in front of the rude stone fireplace.
The leader of the smugglers who had met them on the beach said, “Sorry for the scare, Mr. Avery. John said to cover the cove and make sure you got ashore safely.” He was a nondescript fellow, ideal for smuggling, one whom a soldier or guardsman was unlikely to look at twice. The only thing that differentiated this man and his companions from common workers was the assortment of weapons they carried.
Roo said, “I wish we’d have had enough time for him to answer the note. So I would have known we were to be met.”
The smuggler’s spokesman said, “As soon as your clothing is dried out, we’ll leave.” He glanced out the door of the hut. “Or maybe a little damp, because we have to be out of here before dawn.”
“Patrols?”
“Not so’s you’d notice,” said the man. “But there is a checkpoint up the road we need to pass, and the guards that we’ve bribed are relieved at dawn. You’ll go in place of two men who will stay here. We’ve got some goods stashed away from our last cargo and we’ll have to hurry to be in the town before dawn. No one will suspect anything.”
Erik nodded.
Roo inspected the clothing and said, “We’ll change once we get to John’s. He’s sure to have some dry clothing.”
Erik sipped the coffee. “This tastes fresh,” he said.
“Should be. Got it off a packet boat from Durban yesterday. It’s part of that cargo we’ll be carrying in.”
“Keshian ships are putting in here?”
“And Quegan traders, too,” said the leader. “Kingdom ships are staying close to Port Vykor and escorting Far Coast traders to and from the Straits of Darkness.” He made a wide sweeping gesture. “Fadawah’s got a few ships left from the invasion, and he’s keeping them up near Ylith. So there’s no one to keep ships away from these beaches, but it’s tough getting anything into the town unless you have the checkpoint guards bribed.” The leader moved toward the door. “I’ve got things to do.” He motioned to the other smugglers, who departed, leaving Roo and Erik alone.
Erik said, “I told you Vinci would get your note.”
“You had more confidence in my agents than I,” Roo answered. “It seems your faith was justified.”
Erik said, “There are a lot of things at risk, Roo, and we need your contacts as well as our own to pull off this counterstrike.”
“What’s the Prince’s plan for that old abbey? If Fadawah’s got any brains, it’s packed to the limit with enough men to strike down the mountain and rain any attack up the coast.”
“Arutha’s got plans for the abbey.”
Roo shook his head. “Every time I hear any member of the royal court has plans, I’m reminded that most of the time we served involved running very hard from people who were trying equally hard to catch and kill us.”
Erik said, “That’s one way of putting things.”
They spoke little for the next hour, as their clothes dried enough to put on. An hour before dawn, the leader of the smugglers said, “We must go.”
Roo and Erik quickly dressed, their clothes still slightly damp. They went outside and gathered up bundles of goods, and climbed a steep path that cut straight up the side of a small cliff behind the village. Fishermen were moving down toward the beach where they would launch their boats and spend their day as their fathers and grandfathers had before them. They took no notice of the smugglers, and Roo assumed the inhabitants of the village were paid a handsome sum to pretend the smugglers were invisible.
They climbed the cliffs until they reached the plateau above, a large stretch of dirt and grass they quickly crossed to reach the road. They moved swiftly down the road until they came in sight of a barricade. It was a sturdy affair of dirt, reinforced with wood and stones, sporting an impressive array of steel-tipped wooden stakes to repulse riders. To pass it, the smugglers had to move to the side of the road, step down into a shallow gully, then circle around to the back of the barricade. A wagon or a man on foot could easily negotiate it, but attackers up the road would be forced down to the cliffs on the sea side, where another large barricade was erected, or into thick woods steeply rising up the side of a small mountain, impassable by any but the occasional goat or deer.
As they hurried past the guards, the leader of the smugglers stopped and handed over a pouch and nodded, without a word, to a soldier who was equally silent.
Then they were past the checkpoint and down the road into the town of Sarth.
The rear door to the storage room closed after the last smuggler departed. It was attached to the back of John Vinci’s shop, the second floor of which was his home. A single lantern illuminated the room, which was stacked with small boxes and bundles of goods he would sell in his shop: cloth, needles, thread, iron goods – kettles, pots, and pans – rope, tools, and other necessities for those living in and around Sarth. Vinci turned and said, “Bad news, Roo.”
“What?”
“Lord Vasarius has agents in town.”
Rupert said, “Damn. Any who know me from my visits to Queg?”
“Almost certainly. You’ll have to keep a very low profile,” Vinci said. “You can stay out back in the smaller worker’s shed. I have no one using it now. Vasarius’s men are due to sail back to Queg by the end of the week. Once they’re gone, you should be able to move about freely.”
John Vinci was the son of an escaped Quegan galley slave who had made his way to the safety of the Kingdom. He spoke the language of the island nation like a native, and traded with smugglers and sea captains attempting to avoid Kingdom customs officers.
He had come to Roo’s attention when he had gained possession of a valuable necklace, one which Roo had eventually used to ingratiate himself to Lord Vasarius. He had then achieved several profitable trades with the Quegan noble, leading up to planting a rumor of a treasure fleet which had caused the leading nobles of Queg to dispatch their warships to attack the fleet of the Emerald Queen as it exited the Straits of Darkness the previous Midsummer’s Day. The most powerful lords of Queg had seen the vast bulk of their ships sent to the bottom, the single most devastating naval defeat in their history.
Most knew that Rupert Avery of Krondor somehow had a hand in this, for while there was no direct line proving he engineered the ruse, there were ample reports of rumors started by men who served on his ships, or who worked for his agents. Without being told, Roo knew he was a marked man in Queg and that to be discovered outside Kingdom protection meant his life would be measured in hours, if not minutes. Even in the Kingdom he would have to forevermore be vigilant against assassins hired by Quegan gold.
Roo looked at John. “I can hide out until we have to depart, if necessary. But Erik needs to look around. Can you provide believable cover?”
John looked dubious. “I don’t know. There are so many strangers in Sarth, perhaps. If he could pass as a Quegan or Keshian mercenary, no doubt. But all Kingdom citizens who bear arms are known to the local soldiers.”
Erik said, “I don’t have to go armed. If I’m one of your workmen …”
Vinci shook his head. “I only employ casual labor, Erik. Things are a little slow now, given the occupation.” He said, “Let me think about this. You two sleep and take it easy. I’ll send one of my children out with some food in a while, then sleep. Maybe by tomorrow morning I’ll have thought of some reason to be walking around town with someone as noticeable as Erik.”
“Buy something,” said Roo.
John’s eyebrows went up. “What?”
“Buy something. A building, a business, a house. Something over on the other side of the town that will let you move back and forth. Make Erik … a builder. Someone you’re going to pay to repair things.”
Vinci said, “There are several businesses that are abandoned or for sale.”
“Good, let it be known you’re taking the opportunity to seize profit, and are willing to buy whatever anyone has to sell.”
“How, by the way, am I paying for this?”
“If you actually have to buy something, John, you’ll pay for it as you always do, with my gold.”
Vinci grinned. “It usually comes back with a profit attached.”
“True,” said Roo, returning the grin. “That’s why you’re doing so well.”
John opened the door to the front part of his store, and the stairs leading up to the living quarters above, and said, “Food will be here shortly. After you finish, head out that rear door to the shed on the other side of the yard and get some sleep.”
Erik turned to Roo as the door closed. “A builder?”
“Just pick up some loose wood, look at it, toss it aside, and grunt. Take along some parchment or paper and scribble on it. Look around a lot. If any of the soldiers start talking like they know something about carpentry, nod in agreement.”
Erik leaned his chair back, so that he balanced on two legs, resting his head against the wall. “Well, it’s a better plan than I have. I hope things back in Darkmoor are working out smoother than they are here.”
Jimmy shouted, “No!”
Arutha said, “There will be no argument!”
Dash stepped between his brother and father and said, “Calm down, both of you.”
Arutha said, “My orders are not subject to your approval, James!”
Jimmy said, “But you, leading a raid … it’s preposterous.”
Nakor and Father Dominic stood nearby, watching the exchange. Arutha said, “I am the only one here who remembers Father’s story about the secret entrance into the abbey at Sarth. I don’t remember all of it, but I stand the best chance of having things come back to me as I walk around the base of that mountain.”
Jimmy looked at Father Dominic. “Don’t you know the way?”
Dominic said, “I know where the door is, in the subbasement of the abandoned library, that leads to the tunnel outside in the hills. I don’t know if I could find the entrance from the outside. It’s been twenty years since I’ve even been down to the base of the mountain.”
Jimmy was about to speak when Dash said, “What do you want us to do?”
Arutha said, “I need someone in Krondor overseeing the rotation of troops. When Von Darkmoor and Avery get back from their scouting mission at Sarth, I want to be able to strike before Nordan sees the attack coming.”
“Which is why Greylock is already up at the forward lines getting ready,” said Jimmy.
“Yes,” replied Arutha. “I’ll give you details before you go, but by midday tomorrow I want you on the road west.”
Jimmy said, “I don’t like this one little bit.”
Nakor grinned. “You make that obvious.”
Dash said, “Come on. We have to get our kits together.”
As the boys reached the door out of Arutha’s office, Arutha said, “Jimmy, Dash.”
They stopped at the door. “Yes?” asked Dash.
“I love you both very much.”
Jimmy hesitated a moment, then returned to embrace his father. “Don’t do anything stupid and heroic,” he whispered to his father.
“Aren’t I supposed to be saying that to you?” asked Arutha.
Dash hugged his father and said, “You know it wouldn’t do any good.”
“Stay alive, both of you,” whispered Arutha.
“You, too,” said Jimmy.
The brothers left the room. Arutha turned to Dominic and said, “What does the Ishapian Temple have to say to us, Brother?”
Dominic, a man nearly eighty years of age, but appearing barely twenty-five due to the healing magic of the Lifestone, said, “Many things, my lord duke. May I sit?”
Arutha indicated they both should, and Dominic said, “It took some persuasion, but I am living proof of my claims. Besides, I was seniormost in rank in the West and my words carried some weight.”
“And your warning saved your library at Sarth.”
“To be frank, that was not entirely providential.”
“What do you mean?” asked Arutha.
“I don’t think it a breach of trust to reveal it was your grandfather who warned us to be ready to move the library when certain things occurred.”
“Really?” said Arutha.
Dominic got a perplexed expression on his face. “But what I find odd was when he arrived at Sarth to find me and take me to Seathanon, prior to our confrontation with the demon, he didn’t seem to remember he sent us the warning.”
“Maybe he didn’t,” said Nakor.
“Why?” asked Arutha.
“Because maybe he hasn’t sent the warning, yet.”
Dominic said, “Time travel?”
Nakor shrugged. “Possibly. He’s done it before.”
Arutha nodded. “That’s possible. I get the feeling there’s a great deal more to all this than Grandfather has told me, or than you’ve told me.”
Nakor said, “True. But that’s for your own good.”
Arutha laughed. “You sound like me, talking to my children.” To Dominic, “So, will the Ishapian Temple support Nakor’s efforts?”
“Yes,” said Dominic, “though they are somewhat dubious as to the net effect. Yet they understand the need.”
“I’m dubious, too,” said Nakor, “and I started the Temple of Arch-Indar.”
Arutha said, “You are the most amazing man. What is the exact purpose of your order, again?”
“To bring about the restoration of the Goddess of Good, as I told you before.”
“Yes, you are a wonder,” said Arutha dryly.
Nakor said, “Yes, I am, aren’t I? But I think my little temple will not be what it needs to be until we find the real head of the order.”
“I thought you were the high priest of Arch-Indar,” said Arutha.
“Only until the real one shows up. Then I’ll return to doing what I do best, traveling and learning things.”
“Well, until this person puts in an appearance, what are you going to do?”
Nakor said, “Do tricks, tell stories, provide food, get people to listen to the message of the Good Lady.”
Dominic said, “First must come belief. When people begin to understand that good flows from Arch-Indar, then they will begin the long task of bringing her back to us.”
“I don’t pretend to understand everything involved with temple politics,” said Arutha. “I have read notes left by my father and Prince Arutha, and I get the distinct impression they were privy to secrets that were not passed along to me.”
Dominic said nothing.
“Very well,” said Arutha. “I will trust that nothing in this poses a threat to the Kingdom, which is my charge and area of concern. Besides, it seems to me that spreading the doctrine of doing good can harm no one.”
Nakor shook his head. “Would that it were true. Men have been put to death for preaching good.”
Arutha said, “Well, at least not in the West while I’m Duke of Krondor.” Looking at Dominic he said, “If I can find this entrance to the old abbey, can you get us inside?”
Dominic said, “I can. The entrance is locked from within. But there is a secret control that will open it from without. Your father found that control.”
Arutha smiled. “He always claimed he was the best thief in the history of Krondor.”
“Skill or luck, he recognized it, disarmed a trap, and activated the entrance. Almost gave one of our brothers a heart attack when he showed up inside our library.”
Arutha said, “The question becomes how many men to bring with us.”
Dominic said, “I know only a little of warcraft. You must bring a small enough company that we are not detected while moving through the mountains and large enough that once inside we stand a good chance of securing the abbey.”
“Can you draw me plans of the abbey?”
“I lived there fifty years, Duke Arutha. I can show you every hallway and closet.”
“Good. I will have a scribe visit with you in the morning. If you can have them finished by the end of the week, I would be appreciative. If we’re going to be in position to get inside the abbey when Owen strikes up the coast at Sarth, we need be on the way up the eastern trail along Nightmare Ridge by then.”
Dominic bowed and said, “I am at your disposal. If someone could show me to a room? It’s been a long journey from Rillanon.”
Arutha rang a small bell and a page opened the door to his office. “Show Brother Dominic to my quarters and bring him whatever he needs.”
“Your quarters?” asked the Ishapian.
“I will not be needing them tonight, I’m afraid. I have many things to do before first light tomorrow. Perhaps a nap after the morning court.”
Dominic nodded and bowed again, following the page out of the room.
Nakor said, “At least you’ve enough sense to put a bedroll behind your desk, if you need to catch a nap.”
Arutha smiled. “You don’t miss much, do you?”
“I’m a gambler, remember? If I missed things I’d be broke or dead.”
“Are you coming with us?”
“No,” said Nakor. “It sounds interesting, but I think I need to be here. Dominic brings a great gift from the Ishapians. They will share the power they gain from the Tear of the Gods with us. When we have found the true leader of our temple, we will send him to Rillanon and there he will be given this power.
“That power will tum my little warehouse into a true temple, where prayers will be answered, and miracles performed. Men will learn of good and then help recreate the Good Lady.”
Arutha said, “A worthy undertaking.” He rose. “If you’ll excuse me, Nakor, I do have work. And if you need anything for your temple and I can help before I go, I will do my best.”
“Thanks,” said Nakor, as he walked to the door. “Come back alive, if you would. A new Duke might not be so willing to listen to me.”
Arutha laughed as he opened the door to his office. “Well, as much as I’d hate to inconvenience you by getting killed, I think I would be even more inconvenienced.”
“True. See, it’s to both our benefit if you stay alive.”
Arutha laughed again as he closed the door behind Nakor. Still chuckling, he sat back down behind his desk and considered the mountain of work before him. The smile faded as he picked up the first report he needed to review and, after scanning it, placed it in a pile to review with his clerk in the morning.
He picked up the next piece of paper.
“Jimmy!” called Francie as he started down the hallway.
Jimmy turned and saw her hurrying after him. “Hello,” he said coolly.
She slipped her arm in his and said, “I haven’t seen you for a while. Has your father had you out and about?”
Jimmy said, “No, I’ve been working here, but have little time of my own.” Very gently and slowly, he disengaged his arm from hers.
“Jimmy, what’s wrong?” she asked.
Jimmy felt his color rise, and suddenly he was choking on unexpected emotions. “What’s wrong is it isn’t appropriate for me to be overly familiar with the future Queen of Isles.”
Her color rose in a blush and she looked down at the floor stones. “I should have known your father would tell you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
She looked up at him, and her eyes were rimming with moisture. “I don’t know. I didn’t know … how you’d take it. Before I came to Darkmoor, I thought I knew how I felt about you … about us. Then when I saw you, and we dined together and those walks together … I don’t know. Things just didn’t seem the same as they did when we were children.”
Jimmy said, “That’s because they’re not the same. We’re not children.”
She looked him in the eyes, then impulsively leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “You were always my best friend, Jimmy. I love you more than any boy I’ve known. I want you to be happy for me.”
Jimmy flushed. “Happy because you’re going to be Queen, or because you’re going to marry that ass Patrick?”
“Don’t be that way,” she said softly. “Daddy says someone has to keep Patrick in line, and that’s why he wants me to be a strong Queen. It’s one of the reasons the King wants me to marry Patrick.”
Jimmy said, “Look, I don’t know what to say. I only know that whatever we want doesn’t matter, and that you’ll marry Patrick, and I’ll marry whoever Father tells me to marry, and that will be the end of that. It’s never been any other way.”
She squeezed his hand. “Be my friend?”
He nodded. “I’ll always be that, Francie.”
A tear formed and started down her cheek. “I’ll need friends like you when I‘m Queen in Rillanon.”
He found his own feelings rising and said, “It’s just …”
“What?”
Softly he said, “We’ll never know what we could have been, don’t you see?”
She nodded. “I see. But there’s never been a choice for either of us, has there? We can’t let our feelings distract us from our duty.” She looked into his eyes a moment, then added, “I will always love the boy who used to play with me in the palace at Rillanon, and who used to laugh when I beat up his little brother. I’ll cherish the time we spent sneaking into all those places we weren’t supposed to go. I never forgave you for being boys and getting to do boy things, while I had to learn to be a lady.” She sighed. “But I will never be able to fall in love, my dearest Jimmy. And neither will you. Don’t mourn for something that never was. Just be my friend.”
Without another word she released his hand and hurried back down the corridor.
Jimmy stood quietly for a long minute, then slowly turned and resumed his walk down the corridor.
Dash signaled and Jimmy turned and waved. They were a hundred yards ahead of the first column heading into Krondor. A delegation of Duko’s men were waiting a mile outside the city and Jimmy wanted the column to wait until an exchange of documents was completed.
Jimmy urged his horse forward and rode to a point just before the obvious leader of the group. Jimmy saluted and said, “I am Baron James of the Prince’s court.” He recognized the man as being one of Duko’s captains. Then he remembered his name. “How are you, Captain Boyse?”
The Captain, a muscular man with a long beard and hair, nodded. “Well, Baron James.”
Jimmy reached into a pouch sewn into his cloak and pulled a thread, unraveling the top seam. He reached into the pocket and pulled out a sheaf of documents. He handed them to Boyse. “This is the final communication between Prince Patrick and our newly named Lord Sutherland. This will confirm his appointment to office – the ceremony will be held when Patrick returns to the city. There are several orders and instructions, but they just reaffirm what the Duke already knows.”
Captain Boyse stroked his chin. “You know, when Duko … I mean the Duke, first told me of this deal, I would have bet my life it would never take place.” He shrugged. “What do I know?” He pointed to the southwest. “A troop of five hundred men, foot and horse alike, are already on the march toward Land’s End. We will occupy that fortress by week’s end.” He smiled. “I understand we may have to dislodge a few Keshians who have wandered into that town from the desert?”
Jimmy nodded. “Bandits, mostly.”
“You’ve brought the replacements?”
“Up the road,” said Jimmy.
“Good.” He handed the documents to one of his lieutenants, and said, “I will happily trade this garrison duty for some scrapping along the frontier. Some of my men are city men, who were carpenters or masons, fishermen and the like, back home, but I was always a soldier.” He looked around as if trying to see beyond the limits of his vision. “Duko’s a thinker; he talks about this nation of yours. He tells us this new pledge of loyalty is a good thing.” He looked at Jimmy. “I do not know of such things. I am trained to fight and kill and die if needed. But I trust Duko. He has been my leader for more than half my life, and he was not much more than a boy when I pledged service to him. So, if Duko says we are now servants of your Prince, and that we fight for this nation we tried to take last year, then we shall serve your Prince and fight for this nation. I don’t claim to understand it, but I will do as Duko orders, for he is my General.”
Jimmy nodded. “I understand. And for that reason, he will continue to be your General.” Then Jimmy smiled. “And perhaps someday he will have a son, who will grow up to also be your General.”
Boyse laughed. “That would be something, wouldn’t it, Baron James?” He turned his horse around and said, “Call your men. Let us ride into Krondor together.”
Jimmy signaled and Dash rode forward, and the column behind him also moved up. When they were formed up with Boyse and his companions, they started forward, and for the first time in almost a year, the agents of the Prince of Krondor were reclaiming his city for the crown.
Dash hurried along the street, dodging workers and peddlers. Life was returning to Krondor, and there were endless tasks before them. Several hundred mercenaries from outside the walls had been given employment and sent to the borders to the south. Others were being recruited for caravan escort and garrison duty in the area between Darkmoor and Shamata, replacing soldiers who were being sent to this front.
Workers, shopkeepers, and some minor nobles had returned in the last two weeks. Two messengers from Fadawah had been intercepted, and reassuring reports returned by other messengers, soldiers loyal to Duko who could be trusted to report only what Duko wanted Fadawah and Nordan to know.
Dash judged it would be only a matter of two or three weeks more before it was obvious to Fadawah and Nordan that Duko had turned coat. The story that a big wedding in Rillanon would keep the Prince away from the West for a year, and that Keshian agitation along the border would keep the Kingdom from attempting to retake Krondor, had been widely circulated. Duko’s latest message to Fadawah included a note that a Keshian agent had made preliminary contact with him inquiring about the possibility of formal treaty with the “King of the Bitter Sea,” which Duko hoped would keep Fadawah overconfident for a while longer.
Dash turned a corner, heading into a burned-out portion of the city that was far down the list to be rebuilt. The note he had received had been short and to the point. No signature had been affixed, but he had no doubt who had sent it.
Dash worried about the presence of Keshian agents in the city. The transfer of soldiers was taking place slowly. The logistics of getting those patrols to pre-determined locations, having those men switch clothing with Kingdom regulars, and change places, was very complex. To any casual observer, it appeared that a half-dozen or so patrols rode out throughout the day and returned later. What wasn’t apparent was that they were composed of different men. The one place Duko’s men remained was at two checkpoints south of Nordan’s position in Sarth. So far there had been no mistakes.
Dash reached the appropriate place and stepped inside the burned-out shell of a tavern. As soon as he was inside the fire-blackened walls, a voice in the shadows said, “You come alone, Puppy?”
Dash’s expression let Trina know what he thought of being called “Puppy.” “I’m alone.”
She jerked her head to one side, indicating a door to a rear room. He moved toward it, and it opened. John Turpin stood in front of the doorway and said, “Sword.”
Dash removed his sword from its scabbard and handed it to him. “Through there,” he said, indicating another door.
Dash moved to that door, and when it didn’t open, he tripped the latch. Inside he found the Upright Man sitting at a table, a half-drunk flagon of water next to him.
“Nephew,” he said with dry humor. His voice was as raspy as Dash remembered.
“Uncle,” said Dash with the same dry humor.
“Have you news for me?”
Dash sighed. He sat in the second chair at the table without being asked. “As you can see, we were not in need of your help in taking the city. Duko gave it willingly.”
“At no small price, I hear,” said Lysle Riggers with a chuckle. “Duke of the Southern Marches.”
“There’s to be a general amnesty.”
The old man studied his great-nephew and said, “I don’t hear the ‘but,’ though it is there.”
“It’s to be applied only to those who fought against the Kingdom, as they swear loyalty to the crown. It will also be extended to any man who volunteers for service now.”
“But not petty thieves such as the Mockers.”
“Only if you join the army,” said Dash. “I tried. My father has no need to be busying himself or his judges with accusations of crimes before the war.” Dash shrugged. “Fact is, anyone likely to bring complaint is no longer living here. When merchants return, who is to say what was taken before the war and what was looted or lost during the sacking of the city?”
Lysle chuckled. “True. All true. However, there are those among our brethren who have the death mark on them already, and who are known to your father’s constables.”
Dash let out a long sigh. “I know, but if they’ll serve the crown, they’ll be pardoned for their crimes.”
“I’m a little old to serve, don’t you think?” asked the Upright Man.
Dash said, “I don’t think there’s anyone besides myself, Jimmy, and Father who has an inkling of who you might be. And while I’m sure there is a very long list of crimes for which you might be hung, why bother?” He looked at his great-uncle and said, “If Grandfather didn’t want you taken, why should we?”
“Your grandfather needed me alive to control the Mockers,” said Lysle. “It may be some time before the Mockers are effective enough to be in need of controlling again.” He let out a long, tired sigh. “I most certainly will not be here to see it. And I do not know if the next Upright Man, or whatever he calls himself, will care to make deals with the crown.” He pointed a finger at Dash. “You and your father are clever enough, but once I’m gone, you’ll not be able to make demands of the Mockers the way your grandfather made of me.”
Dash said, “I know. If you have nothing more, I have a great deal to do.”
The Upright Man waved him away. “We’re done, Dashel Jamison. From now on, we are Mockers and you are the Prince’s man. If you come back into the Poor Quarter after dark, you are as much at risk as any other man.”
“I understand,” said Dash. He returned to the door, then paused and said, “But if there’s something I can do without compromising my oath to the Kingdom, send me a message, will you?”
The old man laughed. “I’ll consider it. Now go.”
Dash moved into the second room and found John Turpin gone. His sword hung over the butt end of a burned-out timber. He retrieved it and moved through the next door. As he expected, Trina wasn’t in the outer part of the building either. He left the devastation of the inn and moved away. He paused a moment and tried to remember the name of that particular inn, then it came to him. It had been called the Rainbow Parrot, and it had once been owned by a friend of his grandfather’s, a man named Lucas. Caught up for a moment in reflection on old stories of his grandfather, Dash almost didn’t hear the footsteps behind him.
He spun and had his sword out before the man came within a half-dozen paces. The man coming at him was dressed like a rag picker and was thin and dirty. He came to a halt and, putting up his hands, backed away, then turned and ran.
Dash put up his sword and considered that it would be a long time before Krondor was what it once had been. Then as he left to return to the palace, he considered the Poor Quarter was probably safer now than it had been before the war.
Dash reached the palace and was again astonished by the amount of work going on; there must have been a hundred masons at work, most of whom had been soldiers serving in Duko’s army before the war. But they were making progress in getting the palace repaired. Other workers washed soot from walls, hauling away rubbish and debris, even hanging screens and other decorative touches in some of the larger rooms on the main floor. Entering the hallway, he saw Jimmy hurrying toward him. “There you are!” said Jimmy.
“What is it?”
“We’ve got troubles,” said Jimmy, turning to walk beside Dash toward the Prince’s private office suite, now being used by Duko.
“Has Fadawah discovered what we’re up to?”
“Worse,” said Jimmy.
“What?”
“Land’s End was overrun by a Keshian company.”
“Oh, gods.”
“Yes,” said Jimmy as they turned the corner and climbed stairs up toward Duko’s offices. “And there are other reports coming in. It looks like Kesh has decided to punctuate her demands for concessions with a little show of force.”
“Just what we need,” said Dash.
Jimmy moved toward the door to Duko’s office, knocked once, and opened the door without waiting to be bid enter. A clerk holding a large sheaf of papers, warned by the knock, jumped nimbly out of the way as the door opened.
The two brothers entered and found a half-dozen clerks and scribes writing orders and dispatches. They made their way through the press of court officers and entered Duko’s inner office. Dash was once again struck by the difference between his office when it was occupied by the Prince and his father, and as it was now, with Duko sitting behind the desk. Before it was the administrative center of the Western Realm, now it was the headquarters of a military organization.
Dash and Jimmy now recognized most of Duko’s remaining Captains, and all the Kingdom officers who now served. Wendell, a cavalry captain formerly of the garrison at Hawk’s Hollow, now officially the Knight-Captain of the Royal Krondorian Horse, looked at a map and said, “I can have four hundred more men down there by the day after tomorrow, Your Grace.”
Some of Duko’s Captains glanced at one another; they were still having some problem with the protocols of the Kingdom and found the new title oddly unnerving.
Duko looked at Jimmy and Dash. “You two. You’re familiar with this area, aren’t you?”
Jimmy said, “We’ve spent the last few years here, Your Grace.”
It suddenly struck Dash that the majority of the Krondorian garrison perished in the destruction of the city; the remaining fragments of the garrison were now serving to the east with Owen Greylock. Owen wasn’t due in the city for another five days, just before the time selected to launch the offensive northward.
Duko pointed at the map. “We’ve got two or three hundred soldiers assaulting our position in Land’s End. By this morning’s dispatch, they’re holding there, but hard-pressed. They may already have fallen. The five hundred foot soldiers I sent earlier this week won’t get there for another five days, even if I send a galloper to order a forced march. We also have reports of some ships sailing along the coast toward Land’s End, possibly in support of the assault.”
Jimmy said, “That makes sense. If they bring up a large force across the Jal-Pur, they have logistics problems. But if they shock us with a smaller force, holding our men inside the citadel, while they land more troops by sea, they can quickly surround and siege.”
“Who’s in charge down in Port Vykor?” asked Duko.
“Admiral Reeves,” supplied one of the Kingdom officers.
“Send him orders to intercept those ships and drive them off. I don’t care if he sinks or captures them, just keep them from landing those men.” The officer saluted and hurried to the outer office. Duko looked at Wendell. “Take your four hundred horse and leave at once. As soon as you overtake those foot soldiers, tell them to run.” Captain Wendell saluted. Duko turned to one of his old captains and said, “Runcor, I want you to take a hundred or so of your best mother-killers and follow the coastline down to Land’s End. If you see anyone coming ashore, kill them.”
The old Captain said, “Yes, Duko … er, Your Grace.”
Duko smiled and said, “Get out of here.”
Duko looked at Jimmy and Dash. “Until your Lord Greylock gets here, I’m assuming command. I’ll need your help, young sirs, as I am not all that familiar with this outlying area.”
He pointed to a spot on the map. “But I’m guessing that if this Empire to the south is serious, here is where we will see their next push.” His finger was on a small hill pass halfway between Shamata and Land’s End. “It’s a long run, but it’s relatively flat land. If they only seek to put pressure on the negotiations in Darkmoor, then they’ll withdraw at the first show of strength. If they are seeking to get into a serious fight, they’ll launch a second assault through here about the time they land their ships at Land’s End.” Looking at another of his old captains, he said, “Jallom, get scouts down to that pass as fast as possible. I don’t even know if we have any soldiers there.”
“We don’t,” said the Captain named Jallom. “We assumed the Kingdom would take care of their southern flank and we wouldn’t have to worry.”
“Well, we’re now the Kingdom, and we need to worry. And send word to Greylock about what is going on and ask him if he might consider sending troops that way if they can get there first.”
Men hurried to carry out orders, and Duko said, “Gentlemen, we have a war on our hands. It’s just not the one we wanted, and we don’t know how big it is. It may be a little one, but if I were the Keshian General and I found out just how chaotic things were here, I might try to get into Krondor before Greylock, and then dare him to come dig me out with Nordan on his northern flank.” Duko shook his head. “Let’s hope that kicking them out of Land’s End will teach them the error of their ways.”
Jimmy looked at Dash and they both shared the same thought: What else could go wrong?