JIMMY WEPT.
Standing at attention on the steps of the palace in Krondor, next to his brother, a step behind the Prince, his tears ran freely down his face. He could not imagine a life without his father. He had known those who fight might die, but his father had not been a warrior. He had studied arms and armor, like every noble in the Kingdom, but his life had been one of administration, diplomacy, and judgment. Only once had he chosen to fight, and that decision had cost him his life. Dash had never imagined his father’s return to Krondor would be on a wagon acting as a bier. He kept his features set in an unreadable mask as he watched the wagon carrying his father’s body pass by. A day of mourning had been announced for Duke Arutha and the others who had fallen in retaking Sarth.
Dash wondered if it was worth it. He didn’t feel anything, save a numb empty place within. Jimmy was expressing his anger and pain, yet within Dash something lay buried. Looking at the the assembled nobles and military captains of the Kingdom, all bowing their heads in respect as his father’s body was returned to Krondor, Dash just couldn’t make any sense of it.
His father had always been such a sensible man. He was a decent enough swordsman, at least for practice duels, and he kept himself fit, riding and swimming when the opportunity presented itself, but he had never fought in a military action. Then Dash realized he was thinking in present tense. He had been, from what Captain Subai said, a brave soldier at the last, but he should never have been allowed to go on that mission. Dash discovered tears forming in his eyes and he blinked them back.
Duke Arutha had been the practical member of the family. Their mother was always obsessed with the gossip of the royal court in Rillanon, and with long visits back to her own family in Roldem. The boys’ childhood had been dominated by nannies, tutors, and their grandfather, who would teach them how to climb walls, pick locks, and all manner of outrageous behavior. Their grandmother had been a soothing presence and their father had been a rock, a calm, quiet man who had been affectionate and caring in little ways. Dash couldn’t remember a time his father hadn’t greeted him with a warm hug. He recalled the many times he would stand there, one hand upon Dash’s shoulder as if making contact physically was important.
Suddenly Dash was aware he was mourning the loss of his entire family. His grandparents in Roldem were strangers, for the most part. He had a half-dozen visits to that island kingdom in his childhood – his maternal grandparents only came to Rillanon once, for his parents’ wedding. His sister was married to the Duke of Faranzia in Roldem and had never returned to the Kingdom for a visit since her wedding. All that remained was his brother Jimmy.
As the wagon vanished into the stable area, Prince Patrick said, “Gentlemen, the entire nation mourns the loss of your father. Now, if you would join me in council in an hour, please.” He nodded across the courtyard to where Francie stood with her father, and turned and mounted the broad palace steps. As soon as the Prince was out of sight, the rest of the assembled nobles in Krondor dispersed.
Jimmy took a deep breath, getting his emotions under control, and motioned for Dash to accompany him. They followed the wagon around the central palace to where an undertaker was overseeing the removal of their father’s body from the wagon. Two soldiers gently removed the body of Duke Arutha, wrapped from head to foot in faded linen someone had found in Sarth. The undertaker turned to Jimmy and said, “You are Lord Arutha’s son?”
Jimmy nodded, indicating with a gesture that he and Dash were the Duke’s sons.
The undertaker attempted a compassionate pose. “The nation mourns with you, young lords. How will you wish to dispose of your father’s remains?”
Jimmy stopped and looked at Dash. “I … never …”
Dash said, “What is usual?”
“As Duke of Krondor, your father is entitled to be interred in the palace vault. As the Earl Vecar, he is entitled to be interred in the Royal Palace in Rillanon. Or if you have family estates …?”
Jimmy looked at Dash, who was silent. Finally the elder brother said, “My family’s estates are this city. But my father was born and raised in Rillanon. That was always his home. Return him there.”
“As you wish,” said the undertaker.
Dash put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and said, “Let’s get a drink.”
“Only one. We need to see the Prince in an hour. We can get drunk in Father’s memory after.”
Dash nodded as they walked back toward the main entrance to the palace.
Malar Enares was standing before the entrance when they reached it. “Sirs,” he said. “Most regrettable. You have my sympathies.”
The servant from the Vale of Dreams had found a hundred ways to make himself useful around the palace. When Jimmy had returned, expecting to find the servant still under guard, he had been both amused and surprised to discover him working frantically around Duko’s headquarters. He seemed a wonder when it came to organizing, cleaning, and keeping things orderly. He had attached himself to Jimmy again when Duko rode south to take command of the Southern Marches and oversee the sentry forts along the Keshian border.
Malar followed the brothers inside. “May I do something for you, young lords?”
Jimmy said, “If you would bring a bottle of very good brandy to my quarters, I would appreciate it.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” said Malar, rushing off.
Dash and Jimmy walked the long corridors of the palace, now restored to nearly the state they had enjoyed before the destruction of Krondor. Workers still scurried throughout the palace, repainting trim around windows and doors, laying tiles, and hanging tapestries. The rearmost stairs to the upper floors were still in need of repair, but the last of the cracked stones had been removed and replaced by masons, and the soot and fire damage erased.
“Do you remember how this place looked before?” asked Dash.
Jimmy said, “You know, I was just thinking the same thing. I know the tapestries are different, but I’m damned if I can tell you what the ones that hung on the walls before looked like.”
“Patrick’s having all the old war banners from the Prince’s hall remade.”
“It’s not the same,” said Jimmy, “but I can see the reason.”
They reached Jimmy’s quarters and entered. They sat in silence for a minute, then Dash said, “I am so mad at him.” He looked up and his eyes brimmed with tears.
Jimmy’s eyes watered as well, as he said, “I know. How bloody stupid was that? Going off and getting killed.”
“You’ve written to Mother and the aunts?”
“Not yet. I’ll do so this night. I’m still not sure what I’ll say.”
Dash let his tears flow. “Tell them he died bravely. For King and Country.”
“Cold comfort,” said Jimmy.
Dash wiped at his eyes. “He had to go.”
Jimmy said, “No, he didn’t.”
“Yes, he did,” said Dash. “All his life he has been in the shadow of Grandfather, and of the man for whom he was named.”
Jimmy wiped his own eyes and said, “History will only acknowledge one Arutha of Krondor.” He sighed. “Father will possibly be a small notation somewhere. The man named for a great prince who served admirably as administrator in Rillanon and Krondor. Isn’t there more for him than just that?”
Dash said, “Only to those of us who knew him and loved him.”
Jimmy stood as a knock came at the door. He opened it and found Malar Enares standing there, holding a tray upon which rested a bottle of brandy and two crystal goblets.
Jimmy stepped aside and allowed the servant to enter. Malar put the tray down on the table and said, “I wish to express my deepest regrets, young sirs. While having not the pleasure of meeting your distinguished father, I have heard nothing of the man that was not salutary.”
“Thank you,” said Jimmy.
Dash took the decanter and poured drinks as Malar left and closed the door behind him. Offering a goblet to his brother, Dash lifted his and said, “To Father.”
“To Father,” echoed Jimmy. They drank in silence.
After a minute, Jimmy said, “I know how Father felt.”
“How so?” asked Dash.
“No matter how good I am, no matter how high I rise, there will only be one James of Krondor,” he said.
“Only one Jimmy the Hand,” agreed Dash.
“Then, Grandfather would tell us it has nothing to do with fame.”
“He enjoyed the notoriety, though,” said Dash.
“Agreed,” said Jimmy. “But he gained it from being so bloody brilliant at what he did. He didn’t set out to be the most fiendishly clever noble in history.”
“Maybe that’s what Father knew from the start; it’s just getting the job done and let history decide what history will decide,” observed Dash.
Jimmy said, “No doubt you’re right. Well, we’d better get to Patrick’s office and see what the Prince will decide.”
Dash stood up, adjusted his tunic, and said, “Do you think he’ll make you Duke of Krondor? Eldest son and all that.”
Jimmy laughed. “Hardly. He’ll want someone with more experience in the office, as will the King.”
Dash opened the door. “You’re only two years younger than Patrick, Jimmy.”
“Which is exactly why Borric will want someone older and wiser in Krondor,” said Jimmy as he moved through the door. “Had Father been the Duke of Crydee or Yabon, I most certainly would have gotten the title, with a strong Kingdom advisor on the first ship west, but Krondor? No, there’s too much to be done and too many potential mistakes.” As he moved down the hall, he added, “Besides, there are too many headaches. Whatever Patrick offers me will be better than the office of Duke.”
They hurried along until they reached the side entrance to the Prince’s quarters. Jimmy knocked and the door opened. A page stepped aside and allowed them to enter. Compared to the cramped offices endured in Darkmoor, these offices were spacious. The books and scrolls that their father had ordered hauled to safety were being returned to their appropriate shelves or cubicles. Malar was handing a bundle of scrolls to a clerk. “Lending a hand?” asked Jimmy as they passed.
“One helps where one can,” said the servant with a smile.
They passed into the Prince’s private chambers and Patrick looked up. Standing next to the Prince’s desk was Duke Brian of Silden. He nodded at the brothers. They both knew that Brian and their father had been among the closest of friends at court, and that more than any other noble in the realm, Brian would share their sense of loss.
Patrick sat back in his chair and said, “Gentlemen, first let me again express my sorrow at your father’s death. His loss is not only to his family and friends, but to the Kingdom as a whole.” Patrick looked around the room as if seeking something. “It’s as if I expect to see him at every hand. I know now just how much I’ve come to rely upon his counsel.”
Patrick let out a slow breath close to a sigh and continued, “But we must, as ever, press on. Lord Silden will act as my counselor until the King sees fit to name a new duke in Krondor.” Patrick looked at Jimmy and said, “I know you well enough to know you didn’t expect the office.”
Jimmy shook his head. “Ten years from now, perhaps, but not now.”
Patrick nodded. “Good, because we need you somewhere outside of Krondor.”
“Where, Highness?”
“I need someone dependable to keep an eye on Duko. You seem to get along well enough with him, and I need someone down there who will keep him in line.”
Jimmy bowed his head. “Highness.”
“I’ve sent a message to my father, Jimmy. Assume he’ll accept my recommendation that you succeed your father as Earl of Vencar. It’s a lovely little estate and your father would want you to have it.”
Jimmy bowed his head in thanks. “Thank you, Your Highness.” Vencar was where they had been raised. Like many of the estates on the original island Kingdom of Rillanon, it was tiny by mainland standards. A hundred acres of land, with a creek, meadows, and pastures. The tenant farmers had ceased to work the land centuries before as Rillanon had expanded its reach onto the mainland. But for its modest size, it was among the most beautiful estates in the Kingdom. Their grandfather had arranged for it to go to Arutha when the old Earl of Vencar had died without heirs. Jimmy had been born in the palace, as had his sister, but they had moved there when he was a baby. Dash had been born there. It was home.
“So unless my father writes back telling me I’m an idiot, from now forward, you are Earl James.”
Jimmy said, “I thank His Highness.”
Patrick said, “I have a special job for you, Dash.”
“Highness.”
“We have a problem here in Krondor. The army is in the North, and Duko’s swords are down South. I’ve got the palace guard, and that’s all. The city is returning to life and it’s being overrun by thugs and ruffians, cutthroats and thieves. I need someone to bring order. I think of all those I have around here, you have the most affinity for the city streets. I am appointing you Sheriff of Krondor. Until we can create a true City Watch and Office of Constables, you are the law in the city. Recruit who you can, but keep this city under control until the wars are over.”
Dash said, “Sheriff?”
Patrick said, “You object?”
“Ah … no, Highness. I’m just a little surprised.”
“Life is full of surprises,” said Patrick. He indicated some parchments on his desk. “Reports from both fronts. The Keshians retreat before Duko at Land’s End, but are raiding along the eastern front near Shamata. They won’t get too close, for fear of the magicians at Stardock, I think, but they’re harassing our patrols, which are thin to start with. In the North Greylock has consolidated in Sarth and is pushing northward.” Patrick got a concerned look on his face. “Something is not right. The defense along the coast is weak. We know that Fadawah offered up Duko because he was fearful of Duko’s loyalty.
“Now it appears he gave up Nordan in the same way, but by all reports Nordan was his oldest and most trusted ally.”
“Perhaps his hold over his men is less secure than we thought,” observed Jimmy.
Brian of Silden said, “All the reports indicate a difficult winter for the invaders, with many dying of injuries and starvation. But we also have word from our agents that they’re trading with Queg and the Free Cities, food is plentiful, and they’re established in Ylith.”
Patrick ran his hand over his face. “Any word from Yabon?”
“None,” said Duke Brian. “We’ve had nothing since the battle of Sarth. No ships can get past Queg’s pirates to reach the Free Cities. All our ships from the Far Coast were used to support the raid. If word is coming, it is coming by runner, and the chances of a courier getting through the enemy to reach us is thin. Perhaps when we get closer to Ylith, we may hear of Yabon, but for now we must pray the young Duke is able to keep LaMut and Yabon intact.”
Looking at Jimmy and Dash, Patrick said, “Dine with me tonight, both of you, and we’ll discuss your duties. In your case, Jimmy, before you leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” said Dash. “Patrick … Highness, I thought we would accompany our father to Rillanon for his funeral.”
“No time, sorry to say. You’ll have to say your own goodbyes after supper tonight. Perhaps we’ll hold a little wake after supper … yes, that would be fitting. But the requirements of this war don’t permit any of us the luxury for our personal grief or joys. I had to lie to many nobles of the Kingdom about a state wedding, and my intended is not as happy about being married in the ashes of Krondor as she was at the thought of the King’s palace. So we all make sacrifices.”
“At supper, then,” said Dash.
“You are dismissed,” said the Prince.
The brothers bowed and left the Prince’s office.
“Do you believe that?” said Jimmy.
“What?” said Dash.
“That business about ‘we all make sacrifices.’ “
Dash shrugged. “It’s just Patrick. He never knows when he’s ahead and when he should just shut up.”
Jimmy laughed as they turned the corner toward their rooms. “You’ve got that right. Probably why he was always such a bad card player.”
“Perfect,” said Nakor.
Aleta stood still, but she said, “I feel silly.”
“You look wonderful,” said Nakor.
The young woman stood on a box, a linen sheet around her head and shoulders, otherwise garbed in her normal dress. A sculptor worked furiously in clay, trying to capture her likeness. He had been at it for three days, and stepped back and said, “It’s finished.”
Nakor walked around it while Aleta got off the box and came to look at it. “Do I look like that?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Nakor. He continued to walk around it, and finally said, “Yes, that will do.” Looking at the sculptor he asked, “How long will this take?”
“How big do you want it?”
“I want it life-sized.” Pointing at Aleta, he said, “The same size as her.”
“Then it will take a month for each one.”
“Good. A month should be fine.”
“Do you want me to bring them here?”
“I want one delivered here, to be put up in the wagon yard. The other one bring to Krondor.”
“Krondor? Mr. Avery didn’t say anything about trucking a statue all the way to Krondor.”
“Do you want to let wagoners put up your statue?”
The sculptor shrugged. “Makes no difference to me, but it will cost extra.”
Nakor frowned. “That’s between you and Roo.”
The sculptor nodded and carefully wrapped up the clay reference piece in oilcloth and moved it to his wagon, outside.
Aleta said, “Am I done now?”
Nakor said, “Probably not, but you don’t need to pose anymore.”
“What is this all about?” she asked, folding up the sheet she had worn. “I’ve felt very silly posing for that thing.”
“It’s a statue of the Goddess.”
“You used me for a statue of the Goddess!” She seemed appalled. “That’s …”
Nakor looked puzzled. “Something I don’t understand. But it was the right choice.”
Brother Dominic had been in the corner, observing the entire interaction, and he said, “Child, trust me, this strange man knows things, things he doesn’t understand. But if he knows them, they are true.”
The young woman looked as if that explanation caused her even more confusion. Dominic said, “If Nakor said it’s proper for you to pose for the representation of the Goddess, then it is. Trust me on this. It’s no blasphemy.”
The girl seemed more reassured by that, and said, “Well, I have washing to do.”
She left, and Dominic came over to Nakor and asked, “What is it you see in that girl?”
Nakor shrugged. “Something wonderful.”
“Care to be more specific?”
“No,” said Nakor. “Are you coming to Krondor with me?”
Dominic said, “My instructions from the home temple are to accommodate your plans to the best of my ability. If that means accompanying you to Krondor, then I will go.”
Nakor said, “That’s good. Things here will continue to operate without me. Sho Pi can oversee the feeding of the hungry and teaching the children. He’s already begun training disciples in the basics of being a monk; the order of Dala is a good place to start, and that will weed out those looking for a free meal and warm bed from those who really want to contribute.”
“When do we leave?” asked Dominic.
Nakor shrugged. “In a day or two. The last detachments of the army will be leaving to journey to Krondor, to join the Prince, and we can tag along as escort.”
Dominic said, “Very well. I will be ready.”
As Dominic left, Nakor turned and regarded Aleta, who was hanging washing on a line across the courtyard. The sunlight struck her from behind, putting a golden nimbus of light around her head for a moment as she stood on her tiptoes to clip the clothing to the line. Nakor grinned. “Something very wonderful,” he said to himself.
Dinner was quiet. Conversation had been subdued throughout the evening. Mostly it had been sporadic, on this or that issue before the throne, or a small remembrance of Lord Arutha, but long periods passed in silence.
As the last course was removed, waiters appeared with trays upon which rested crystal goblets and decanters of brandy. Patrick said, “As the sons of Lord Arutha are not permitted the relief of returning with their father to the capital for his funeral, I thought it appropriate to honor him with an informal wake. If you would be so kind, gentlemen, a word or two in remembrance would be appropriate.
“Lord Brian?”
The Duke of Silden said, “Since boyhood, Arutha and I were friends. If I was to name the one quality of his many that I found most remarkable, it was his unrivaled clarity of thought. Whatever opinion he gave, on whatever subject, it was the distillation of a remarkable mind. He may have been the most gifted man I have known.”
Jimmy and Dash exchanged glances, for they had never considered what his peers might have thought of their father.
The other nobles made their remarks, and last before the boys was Captain Subai. Not given to long speeches, he seemed uncomfortable, but nevertheless said, “I think of the Duke as perhaps the wisest man I’ve known. He knew his limits and yet was not afraid to challenge them. He put the welfare of others above his own. He loved his family. He will be missed.”
Subai looked at Jimmy, who said, “He was named for a great man.” Jimmy nodded toward Patrick, who acknowledged the reference to his grandfather. “He was raised by a man who may be unique in our history. Yet he knew how to be himself.” Looking at Patrick, he said, “I think about being the grandson of Lord James of Krondor, perhaps because I was named for him. I rarely thought what it must have been like to be his son.” Tears gathered in James’s eyes as he said, “I just wish I could have told him how much he meant to me.”
Dash said, “I too. I think I may have taken him for granted. I hope I never make that mistake with anyone else who is dear to me.”
The Prince stood, taking a glass from the servant. Others did as well. Jimmy and Dash each lifted a glass as the Prince said, “Lord Arutha!”
Everyone at supper, Lord Silden, Captain Subai, and the other nobles invited to Patrick’s “intimate” dinner echoed the toast and drank. Then Patrick said, “This supper is now over, gentlemen.” He withdrew from the hall, and the rest of the guests waited the appropriate time before themselves leaving the hall.
James and Patrick left the hall, a step behind Lord Silden and Captain Subai. They bid the other men good night and returned to their rooms. Jimmy was about to bid Dash goodnight when a page came running. “Gentlemen, please! Attend the Prince at once!”
They hurried after the page, who led them back to the Prince’s office. Inside they found Patrick standing before his desk. His face was a red mask of rage and in his fist he held a message that he had crushed. He held it out to Lord Silden, who unfolded and read it. His eyes widened. “Gods!” he said. Looking stricken, he said quietly, “LaMut has fallen.”
Patrick said, “A soldier escaped and made his way to Loriel, with half of Fadawah’s army behind him. He died after delivering the message. It came south by fast courier from there to Darkmoor, then to here. LaMut has been in enemy hands for three weeks now.” Patrick spoke bitterly. “We congratulated ourselves on the ease with which we took Sarth, and it was all a trade. He gave us back a fishing town, a port of no importance, and in exchange he took the heart of Yabon! Yabon City is now at grave peril and we are no closer to retaking Ylith than we were at first thaw!”
The Prince looked close to being frantic. Suddenly, Jimmy and Dash were painfully aware of how the absence of their father was being felt. They both glanced at Brian Silden, who stood silently, looking afraid to speak. Patrick finally said, “I know, we must get word to Yabon! We must send word to Duke Carl to hold until we can get relief to him.”
“What of Loriel?” asked Jimmy.
“It holds,” said Patrick. “But we don’t know for how long. Fadawah has massed a huge number of men outside the walls, and by this report the fighting is fierce. It may have fallen already. And the report says some sort of black magic is being directed at the defenders.”
Jimmy and Dash exchanged glances. All reports from the previous year’s campaigns said the Pantathian Serpent Priests were gone, but they may have been premature in their assessment. And there was nothing to prevent the magic being the product of human mages.
“We must get word to my great-grandfather,” said Jimmy.
“The magician?” said Patrick. “Where is he?”
“He should still be in Elvandar, if things are as he planned them. He will return to Stardock in another month’s time.”
“Captain Subai,” said Patrick. “Can you get messengers to Yabon?”
“It’s difficult, Highness. We may be able to get one through the mountains to the north of Loriel. Perhaps reach some of the hillmen from Yabon. One of them could continue on to Elvandar.”
Patrick said, “Subai, leave at first light for Darkmoor. Get whatever help you need and go north. I have no one else to spare for the task. Greylock and von Darkmoor will press on until they reach the invaders’ positions south of Ylith. Jimmy, you will go south to Duko and apprise him of what we face. Krondor is now an empty shell and vulnerable. We must show a strong face to everyone. Dash, you must keep this city under control, by whatever means. Now, Lord Silden, please stay and help me compose the orders. Gentlemen, the rest of you are dismissed.”
Outside the Prince’s quarters, Jimmy said, “Captain Subai, if I pen a message to my great-grandfather, would you see he gets it along with the other communications?”
“Of course,” said the Captain. “I expect we’ll both be at the city gate at first light tomorrow. Give it to me then. And I will have something for you. Until then, good night.”
Jimmy and Dash bid the Captain goodnight, and Jimmy said, “Well, Sheriff, help me compose a letter to Great-grandfather.”
Dash said, “Sheriff?” With a sigh he followed his brother.
The dawn was still hours away, but the sky was lightening in the east as Dash stood next to his brother. Upon another horse sat Malar Enares, the servant from the Vale of Dreams, who had somehow learned of Jimmy’s journey. He had prevailed upon Jimmy to allow him to ride south with him, claiming that while work was plentiful in Krondor, payment wasn’t, and that his former master’s business holdings along the Keshian border might still be operating. As the man was harmless company in the main, and often useful, Jimmy agreed.
Captain Subai rode up with a company of his Pathfinders and handed a canvas-wrapped bundle to Jimmy. “This was your father’s sword, Jimmy. I took it from him before they prepared his body to return it to Krondor. I knew as elder son it was to be yours.”
Jimmy took the bundle and unwrapped it. The hilt was worn, and the scabbard nicked and scratched. But the blade was immaculate. Jimmy drew the blade and saw the faint outlines of a miniature warhammer seemingly etched into the forte of the blade. He knew that this was where Macros the Black had empowered the blade with a talisman from the Abbot of Sarth Abbey when Prince Arutha had to face the moredhel leader Murmandamus. The sword had hung in the study in Krondor since the old Prince’s death, and had been sent by Duke James to his son. Now Jimmy held it. “I don’t know,” said Jimmy. “This should go to Patrick or the King, I think.”
Subai shook his head. “No, had the Prince of Krondor wished the sword to go to the King, it would have. He left it in Krondor for a reason.”
Jimmy held it reverently for a while, then unbuckled his own belt, handing his sword to Dash. He put his father’s sword belt around his waist. “Thank you.”
Dash came to stand next to Captain Subai and said, “Would you see the courier who you’re sending to Elvandar carries this message to our great-grandfather, please?”
Subai took the letter and placed it inside his tunic. “I am that courier. I personally will lead the Pathfinders who travel to Yabon and on to Elvandar.”
“Thank you,” said Dash.
Subai said, “If we don’t chance to meet again, young Jimmy, it has been an honor.”
Jimmy said, “Safe travel, Captain.”
The Pathfinders rode out the gate, heading east at a relaxed trot. Jimmy looked at his brother. “Stay safe, little brother.”
Dash reached up to shake Jimmy’s hand. “You travel safely, too, big brother. I don’t know how long it will be before we see one another, but you will be missed.”
Jimmy nodded. “Letters to Mother and the rest of the family are in the pouch bound for Rillanon. When I know where I’m likely to be, I’ll send word.”
Dash waved as Jimmy and his company rode out the gate, then turned around to head back into the castle. He had a meeting in an hour with the Prince, Lord Brian, and others in the castle. After that he had to begin the process of bringing law and order to Krondor while Jimmy rode south to Port Vykor.