WIND SWEPT THE beach.
Pug walked hand in hand with Miranda as the sun rose in the east. They had been walking and talking all night and were close to agreement about several critical issues facing them.
“But I don’t see why you have to do anything now,” said Miranda. “I thought after relaxing in Elvandar for those weeks and getting rid of all that anger you had directed at the Prince, well, I thought you could just ignore Patrick’s stupidity.”
Pug grinned. “Ignoring stupidity in a merchant or servant is one thing; ignoring it in a Prince is quite a different thing. It’s not the simple question of the Saaur. That’s merely a symptom. It’s the entire issue of who is, at the end, responsible for my power, me or the crown?”
“I understand,” she said, “but why rush this decision? Why not wait until it’s clear that you’re being told to act against your conscience?”
“Because I want to avoid a situation where I’m faced with two evils, and must act to prevent the greater evil by embracing the lesser.”
Miranda said, “Well, I still think you may be rushing things.”
“I’m not about to fly to Krondor and explain my stance to Patrick until I’ve taken care of a few other things,” Pug said.
They climbed over some rocks and picked their way among some tidal pools. Pug said, “When I was a boy in Crydee, I used to beg Tomas’s father to let me go to the pools south of town, where I looked for rockclaws and crabs; he made the best shellfish stew.”
Miranda said, “Seems like a long time ago, doesn’t it?”
Pug turned, a youthful grin on his face, and said, “Sometimes it seems like ages, but other times it’s as fresh in my mind as yesterday.”
“What about the Saaur?” asked Miranda. “That problem won’t go away by dwelling in the past.”
“For several nights, my love, I have been spending some time with one of the oldest toys in my collection.”
“That crystal you inherited from Kulgan?”
“The very one. Fashioned by Athalfain of Carse. I’ve been scouring the globe and think I may have found a place to which we can move the Saaur.”
“Care to show me?”
Pug extended his hand and said, “I need to practice that transport spell, anyway. Put a protective shell around us, please.”
Miranda did so, and suddenly a bluish, transparent globe surrounded them. “Don’t materialize us inside a mountain again and we won’t need this.”
Pug said, “I’m trying.” He put his arm around her waist, and said, “Let’s try this.”
Instantly the scene around them swirled, resolving itself into a vast grassy plain.
“Where are we?” asked Miranda.
“The Ethel-du-ath, in the local tongue,” said Pug.
The blue globe vanished, and they were struck by a hot summer wind. “That sounds like Lower Delkian,” said Miranda.
“The Duathian Plain,” said Pug. “Come here.”
He walked her a few hundred yards south and suddenly they were peering down the face of a towering cliff. Pug said, “Sometime ages ago, this part of the continent rose up while that down there fell. There’s no portion of this cliff face less than six hundred feet high. There are two or three places you might climb, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Miranda stepped off into the air and continued walking. She turned and looked down. “That’s quite a drop.”
“Show-off,” said Pug. “The lower portion of the continent was settled by refugees from Triasia, during the purging of the Ishapian Temple of the Heretics of Al-maral.”
“That’s the same bunch that settled down in Novindus,” said Miranda, walking back to solid ground. “No people up here?”
“No people,” said Pug. “Just a million or so square miles of grassland, rolling hills, rivers, and lakes, with mountains to the north and west, and cliffs to the south and east.”
“So you want to put the Saaur here.”
“Until I come up with a better solution,” said Pug. “This place is large enough they can live here for several hundred years, if need be. Eventually, I’ll go back to Shila and rid that place of the remaining demons. But even then it will take centuries to get enough life back on the planet to support the Saaur.”
Miranda said, “What if they don’t want to live here?”
“I may not be able to afford them the luxury of a choice,” said Pug.
Miranda put her arms about Pug’s waist. Hugging him, she said, “Just getting the feel of how much these choices are going to cost, aren’t you?”
“I never told you the story about the Imperial Games, did I?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
He held her, and suddenly they were back on the beach on Sorcerer’s Island. “Now who’s being a show-off!” she demanded, halfway between amusement and anger.
“I think I have the hang of it now,” he said with a wry smile.
She playfully punched him in the arm. “You’re not allowed to ‘think’ you have the hang of it. You damn well better know, unless you want to see how quickly you can erect a protective spell when you’re materializing inside of rock!”
“Sorry,” he said, his expression clearly showing he wasn’t. “Let’s get back to the house.”
“I could use some sleep,” she said. “We’ve been talking all night.”
“Lots of important things to discuss,” he said, putting his arm back around her waist. They walked quietly for a short distance, up to the path that led over the hill and back to the villa.
“I was a new Great One,” Pug began, “and Hochopepa, my mentor in the Assembly, persuaded me to attend a great festival the Warlord was orchestrating to honor the Emperor. And to announce a great victory over the Kingdom.” He fell silent, in remembrance. After a moment, he continued. “Kingdom soldiers were pitted against soldiers of the Thruil, my wife’s people. I became enraged.”
“I can understand that,” said Miranda. They continued to walk the path upward.
“I used my power to tear apart the imperial arena. I caused the winds to blow, fire to fall from the sky, rain, earthquakes, the whole bag of tricks.”
“Must have been impressive.”
“It was. It scared hell out of many thousands of people, Miranda.”
“And you saved the men condemned to fight and die?”
“Yes,” replied Pug.
“But what?”
“But to save two score of soldiers wrongly condemned, I ended up killing hundreds of people whose only crime was to be born on Kelewan and choose to attend a festival for their Emperor.”
Miranda said, “I think I understand.”
“It was a temper tantrum,” said Pug. “Nothing more. I could have found a better way to deal with it had I remained calm, but I let my anger consume me.”
“It’s understandable,” she said.
“It may be understandable,” replied Pug, “but it is no more forgivable for being understandable.” He paused at the top of the ridge that separated the beach from the interior of the island and looked out at the vista. “Look at the sea. It doesn’t care. It endures. This world endures. Shila will eventually endure. When the last demon starves to death, something will happen. A bit of life will fall from the sky, in a meteor or on the winds of magic, or by means I don’t understand. Maybe it will be a single blade of grass hidden behind a rock the demons missed, or some other tiny life that lingers at the bottom of the oceans will emerge and eventually that world will again see life thrive, even if I never return to it.”
“What are you saying, my love?”
“It’s tempting to think of yourself as powerful when those around you are far less so, but compared to the simple fact of existence, to the power of life and how it hangs on, we are nothing.” He looked at his wife. “The Gods are nothing.” He looked toward their home. “Despite my years, I am nothing more than a child when it comes to understanding these things. I know now why your father was always so driven to seek out new knowledge. I know why Nakor revels in each new thing he encounters. We are the same as children encountering a tiny bauble.”
He fell quiet, and Miranda said, “Talking of children makes you sad?”
They walked down the sloping path, through a glade of trees, and approached the outer garden of their estate. They could see students gathered around in a circle, practicing an exercise Pug had given them the day before.
“When I felt my children die, it took all my willpower to keep from flying to confront the demon again,” said Pug.
Miranda lowered her eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t, my love.” She still blamed herself for goading him into attacking the demon prematurely and almost losing his life in the process.
“Well, perhaps my injuries taught me something. Had I challenged Jakan when he was still in Krondor, I might not have survived to defeat him at Sethanon.”
“Is that why you avoid helping remove this General Fadawah from Ylith?”
“Patrick would be pleased for me to simply show up and burn the entire province of Yabon to the ground. He’d happily move settlers in from the East and replant trees, claiming a great victory.
“I doubt the people living there would agree, and neither would the elves or the dwarves who live nearby. Besides, most of those men are no more evil than those serving Patrick. I find matters of politics are of less interest to me every day.”
“Wise,” said Miranda. “You are a force, as am I, and between the two of us we could probably conquer a small nation.”
“Yes,” said Pug with a grin, his first smile since telling of the arena. “What would you do with it?”
“Ask Fadawah,” suggested Miranda. “He obviously has plans.”
Entering the main building of the estate, Pug said, “I have larger concerns.”
“I know,” she replied.
“There is something out there,” said Pug. “Something I haven’t encountered for years.”
“What?”
“I’m not sure,” said Pug. “When I know, I will tell you.” Pug said nothing more. Both knew of the existence out in the cosmos of a great evil, the Nameless One, who was at the root of all the troubles they had been facing for the previous century. And that evil had human agents, men whom Pug had encountered more than once in the past. Pug kept his thoughts to himself, but there had been one agent of Nalar, a mad magician named Sidi, who had created havoc fifty years before. Pug thought the man dead, but now he wasn’t sure. If it wasn’t Sidi he sensed out there, it was another like him, and either possibility left Pug feeling dread and fear. Dealing with these forces was a task beyond any Pug had imagined while he was a Great One of the Assembly, or during his early days of creating Stardock.
It was a task that more than once left Pug feeling defeated before he had even begun. He thanked the gods that he had Miranda, for without her, he would long before have given himself up to despair.
Dash looked up and saw a face he knew. “Talwin?”
The former prisoner walked past the two constables sitting at the table drinking coffee and getting ready for their next patrol. “Can I speak to you in private?” asked the man who had vanished right after Dash escaped from Krondor.
“Sure,” said Dash, standing up and waving the man to a far corner of the converted inn. When they were out of earshot of the constables, Dash said, “I wondered what happened to you. I left you and Gustaf outside a tent when I went in to report, and when I came back out I found only Gustaf.”
Talwin reached inside his tunic and pulled out a faded parchment, obviously old. Dash read:
To whoever reads this:
The bearer of this document will be identified by a mole on his neck and a scar on the back of his left arm. He is a servant of the crown and I request all aid and assistance asked be given to him without question.
Signed,
James, Duke of Krondor
Dash’s eyebrows rose. He glanced at Talwin and saw the man pointing to the mole on his neck, then rolling up his left sleeve to show the scar on his arm. “Who are you?” Dash asked quietly. “I was your grandfather’s agent, and your father’s after him.”
“Agent?” asked Dash. “One of his spies, you mean.”
“Among other things,” said Talwin.
“And I don’t suppose Talwin is your real name,” said Dash.
“It serves,” said Talwin. Lowering his voice he said, “As Sheriff of Krondor you need to know that I am responsible for intelligence within the Western Realm, now.”
Dash nodded. “Knowing my grandfather, he didn’t hand out a lot of cartes blanches, so that makes you a very important spy. Why didn’t you show this to me before?”
“I don’t carry it on me; I had to go dig it out of its hiding place. If I’m searched and it’s found on me by the wrong people, I’m dead.”
“So why now?”
“This city is barely intact, and while it appears to be crawling back from oblivion, it’s very vulnerable. Your job is to insure order, and my job is to ferret out enemy agents.”
Dash was silent for a moment. “Very well. What is it you need?”
“Cooperation between us. Until the palace staff is restored and I can work out of there unseen, I need to work someplace where I can be seen poking around in all parts of the city without people asking too many questions.”
“You need a job as a constable,” supplied Dash.
“Yes. When the present danger is over and the city more secure than it is, I’ll move back to the palace and get out of your hair. Right now I need to be a constable.”
“Do you report to me?” asked Dash.
“No,” said Talwin. “I report to the Duke of Krondor.”
“There is no Duke of Krondor,” said Dash.
“Not at present, but until there is, I report to Duke Brian.”
Dash inclined his head to show that made sense. “Have you alerted him to your existence?”
“Not yet,” said Talwin. “The fewer people who know of me, the better. Rumor has it the King is sending Rufio, Earl Delamo, from Rodez to take the office. If true, I’ll let him know who I am as soon as he arrives.”
Dash said, “I’m not happy with having a constable here under false colors, but I know the business. Just make sure if there’s anything going on out there I should know about, you tell me.”
“I’ll do that,” said Talwin.
“Now, what else do you need from me?”
“I need to know who killed your two men.”
Suddenly Dash had an insight. “You mean who killed your two agents, don’t you?”
Talwin nodded. “How did you guess?”
“The Mockers. Someone told me I needed to find out what Nolan and Riggs did before joining up.”
“They spent a lot of time working the docks for your grandfather and your father. We kept low during the fall of the city and managed to stay alive. I was captured and stuck on the damn work gang until you showed up. I couldn’t risk showing anyone I knew the way out, and I couldn’t get free of guards and other prisoners, but when you organized that break, it was a godsend. Getting us past the Mockers was a bonus.”
“Glad to be of service,” Dash said dryly.
“Nolan and Riggs were also in work gangs, and they got sprung when Duko made his deal with the Prince. I put them into your service because I need to get my network reestablished.” He looked pained as he said, “They were my last two agents in this city.”
“So you have to start from scratch.”
“Yes,” said Talwin. “It’s the only reason you’re being told all this.”
Dash said, “I understand. Look, circumstances say we must work together. Someone killed one of my better snitches when I started asking about who murdered your men.”
“Someone in Krondor doesn’t want us too close,” said Talwin.
“Anyway, we don’t have enough warm bodies to do all the jobs that need to be done. Sniff around and I won’t bother you with a regular beat. If anyone asks, you’re my deputy and on errands for me. I think we’d better quickly get another man in on this.”
“Who?”
“Gustaf is as rock-solid as he can be.”
“Not my idea of an agent,” said Talwin dubiously.
“Not mine, either,” admitted Dash, “but we can’t all be sneaky bastards. I want a third person knowing what’s going on so if we both end up dead he can run off to Brian Silden and let him know why. I don’t think we want him crawling through the sewers.”
“Agreed, but we need some people crawling through the sewers.”
Dash grinned. “Not really. We just need to make a deal with the right people.”
“Mockers?”
“They think another gang is trying to move in, but you and I know better.”
Talwin nodded. “Agents from Kesh or from Queg.”
“Or both.”
“But whoever they are, we have to root them out and quickly, because if word gets out to either of those nations that we’re sitting here with less than five hundred men under arms in the entire city, we could all be dead before the snows fall next winter.”
“I’ll take care of the Mockers,” said Dash. “You find yourself some agents. I don’t want to know who they are, unless you stick them in here as constables.”
“Agreed.”
“I assume you’re using intermediaries.”
“Safe assumption.”
“Make a list and give it to me. I’ll hide it in my room in the palace.” He grinned. “I actually manage to get back there once a week to change clothes and bathe. I’ll leave a sealed message with Lord Brian, an ‘open upon my death’ message telling where the list is.”
Talwin said, “When the network is reestablished, I’ll want the list destroyed.”
“Gladly,” said Dash, “but what good are agents out there going to do if you and I are both gone and there’s no one to get the information to the crown?”
“I understand,” said Talwin.
“Come with me,” said Dash.
He took Talwin back to the center of the room. To the two resting constables, he said, “This is Talwin. He’s been appointed the new Deputy. He’ll work the desk when I’m not here. You two, take him around and show him what things are like, then do what he tells you.”
Talwin nodded, and Dash fetched him a red armband. When the agent left, Dash sat down and returned to work. He idly wondered how many other little surprises were out there, left in place by his grandfather and father.
Jimmy said, “The fancy fellow on the very hot stallion is a gentleman named Marcel Duval, Squire of the King’s Court, and a very close friend to the eldest son of the Duke of Bas-Tyra.”
“Hot” stallion appeared to be correct, for the black stud snorted and pawed the ground and appeared to be ready to dump his rider at any moment. The Squire didn’t attempt to get off until an orderly ran over and took the animal’s bridle. Then he dismounted quickly, putting distance between himself and the horse.
Duko laughed. “Why did he pick that fractious creature?”
“Vanity,” said Jimmy. “You see a lot of that east of Malac’s Cross.”
“And what company is that?” asked Duko.
“His own private guard. Many nobles in the East indulge themselves with such companies. They’re very pretty on parade.”
Looking at the company of soldiers that accompanied the Squire, it was obvious it was a unit designed for parade, not combat. Each man sat astride a black horse, nearly identical in size, and all without a marking. Each soldier wore buckskin-colored leggings tucked into knee-high black cavalier boots, the large knee flaps of which were rimmed in scarlet cord. The color was an exact match to their red tunics, which were trimmed in black whipcord at the shoulders, sleeve, and collar. Their polished steel breastplates appeared to be trimmed in brass, and each man had a short yellow cape slung over the left shoulder. Atop their heads they endured steel round helms, trimmed in white fur, with polished steel neck chains. Each man carried a long lance of lacquered black wood tipped with brilliantly polished steel.
Duko couldn’t resist laughing. “They’re going to get dirty.”
Suddenly Jimmy started to laugh, and he could barely contain himself as the Squire walked up the steps of the inn to the front door. As the door opened, one of Duko’s old soldiers said, “A gentleman to see you, m’lord.”
Duko walked over to Duval, his hand extended, saying, “Squire Marcel. Your reputation precedes you.”
It was protocol for the Squire to introduce himself to the Duke, and Duval was taken completely off guard. He stood there, unsure of whether to take the Duke’s proffered hand or bow, so he gave a rapid and awkward bow, and reached out to take the Duke’s hand just as it was being withdrawn. Jimmy almost hurt himself trying not to laugh.
“Ah … Your Grace,” said the flustered squire from Bas-Tyra. “I’ve come to place my sword at your disposal.” He saw Jimmy standing off to one side, and said, “James?”
“Marcel,” Jimmy said with a slight bow.
“I didn’t know you were here, Squire.”
“It’s Earl, now, actually,” said Duko.
Marcel’s eyes widened, which heightened his comic appearance. For while he was dressed exactly like his men, he had elected to wear a larger helm, with stylized wings on each side. He had a round face, with a large waxed mustache that stuck out on either side.
“Congratulations,” said Marcel.
Jimmy couldn’t resist. “I received the office upon my father’s death,” he said seriously.
Marcel Duval had the decency to blush a furious red color, stammer and appear close to tears over the gaffe. “I’m so sorry#160;… m’lord,” he said with a tone so apologetic it bordered on the comical.
Jimmy swallowed a laugh and said, “Glad to see you, Marcel.”
Duval ignored the remark, totally defeated socially. He turned to Duko and, mustering as military a manner as he could, said, “I have fifty lancers at your disposal, m’lord!”
Duko said, “I’ll have my sergeant get your men billeted, Squire. As long as you’re in my command, you’ll carry the rank of lieutenant. Join us for supper.” Duko shouted, “Matak!”
The old soldier who opened the door, said, “Yes?”
“Show this officer and his men a place they can pitch their tents.”
“Yes, m’lord,” said the old soldier, holding open the door to allow Duval to flee.
When he was gone, Jimmy laughed, and Duko said, “I take it you didn’t get along with him before?”
“Oh, Marcel is harmless, if a bore,” said Jimmy. “When we were boys in Rillanon, he was always trying to intrude into social situations to which he had not been invited. I think he was trying to get on Patrick’s good side.” Jimmy sighed. “It was Patrick who couldn’t stand him, actually. Francie, Dash, and I got along well enough with him.”
“Francie?” asked Duko.
Jimmy’s expression clouded over, as memory of her suddenly inserted itself in his consciousness. “The Duke of Silden’s daughter,” Jimmy supplied.
“Well, he has fifty men. We’ll get them into shape, and if nothing else, they’ll be very obvious on patrol, so the Keshians will know they’re around.”
“They’ll be hard to miss in those scarlet tunics,” said Jimmy.
A knock came at the door and it opened, and a messenger hurried in. Handing a packet to Jimmy, he said, “Messages from Land’s End, m’lords.”
Jimmy took them, opened the packet, and Duko waved the messenger outside. Jimmy quickly sorted out those messages that were urgent and other communiqués that could wait, then opened the first. “Damn,” he said as he skimmed the letter. The Duke was learning to read the King’s tongue, but it was more efficient to let Jimmy read and sum up for him. “Another raid and this time two villages south of Land’s End were sacked. Captain Kuvak is withdrawing from patrolling there, as the villagers have fled and they no longer require the Earl’s protection.”
Duko shook his head. “Some protection. Had he been protecting those villages, they wouldn’t be sacked!”
Jimmy knew the static front was wearing on everyone’s nerves, especially the Duke’s. Kuvak had been one of Duko’s most trusted officers, which is why he had been selected to oversee the defense of the castle at Land’s End. Jimmy jumped to the end of the report. “They still give the castle wide berth, and he’s routed two other raids in the area.”
Duko walked back to the window and looked out at his rapidly growing town. “I know Kuvak’s doing the best he can down there. It’s not his fault.” He looked at the map. “When will they come?”
“The Keshians?”
“They’re not going to do this forever. There’s a reason behind the raids and the probes. They will eventually show us what their intent is, but it may be too late.”
Jimmy was silent. While ambassadors were negotiating at Stardock, men from both nations were dying. Jimmy knew that the strike would come if and when the Keshians decided they could strengthen their negotiating position by doing so.
A strike at the Vale of Dreams, an attempt to seize the western coast from Land’s End to Port Vykor, or a strike directly at Krondor, all were possible. And they were only able to defend two of those three locations, so they had a one in three chance of being wrong, tragically wrong. And lingering in the back of his mind was that escaped Keshian officer, and what he knew.
“Up here,” said Dash.
Turning and looking up, Trina smiled, and Dash was again struck with how attractive she could be should she ever decide to play up her looks. “You’re getting better, Sheriff Puppy.”
Dash leaped down from the roof beam upon which he had rested, landing lightly on his feet. “I found out who Nolan and Riggs worked for,” said Dash.
“And?”
“So I know whoever killed them is neither friend to the crown nor the Mockers.”
“So the enemy of my enemy is my friend?”
Dash grinned. “I wouldn’t go that far. Let’s say that it suits our mutual interest to cooperate in discovering who else is using the sewers as a highway, besides the thieves.”
Trina leaned back against the wall and looked Dash up and down in an appraising fashion. “When we were told you were to be in charge of the city’s security, we thought it a bit of a joke. I guess not. You’re more like your grandfather than not.”
“You knew my grandfather?” asked Dash.
“Only by reputation. Our old friend held your grandfather in awe.”
Dash laughed. “I have always understood how special my grandfather was, but I never thought of him that way.”
“Think on it, Sheriff Puppy. A thief who became the most powerful noble in the Kingdom. That’s a tale.”
“I guess,” said Dash. “But to me he was always Grandfather, and those stories were always just wonderful stories.”
“What do you propose?” asked Trina, changing the topic.
“I need to know if you catch sight of any of these strangers in the sewer, especially if you discover where they’re hiding.”
Trina said, “You know who they are?”
“I have my suspicions,” said Dash.
“Care to share them?”
“Would you in my place?”
She laughed. “No, I wouldn’t. What is in it for the
Mockers?”
Dash said, “I should think you’d just want them gone if they’re causing you problems.”
“They are causing us no problems whatsoever. Nolan and Riggs we knew because they’ve bought information from us before, and they’ve set up a few deals. We always suspected they were working for some businessmen in the city, like Avery and his bunch, who didn’t wish to conduct business in the usual fashion, or a noble who wasn’t entirely aboveboard in paying taxes. That sort of thing.”
Dash realized she was fishing for information. “Whoever Nolan and Riggs were working for prior to the war, they were my men when they got their throats cut. I don’t care if it was over some old grudge or because they happened to wander into the wrong place at the wrong time. I cannot afford to have people running around this city thinking they can kill my constables. It’s that simple.”
“If you say so, Sheriff Puppy. But there’s still the matter of price.”
Dash had no illusions. It was a waste of his time to make any sort of offer. “Ask the old man what he wants, but I won’t compromise the city’s security or look the other way about a capital crime. I’ll get what I want without your help.”
“I’ll ask him,” said Trina. She started to leave.
“Trina,” said Dash.
She stopped and smiled. “You want something else?”
Dash ignored the double entendre. “How is he?”
Trina lost her smile. “Not well.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
Her smile returned, this time a small one without any hint of mockery. “No, I don’t think so, but it’s good of you to ask.”
Dash said, “Well, he is family.”
Trina was silent for a long minute, then she reached out and touched Dash’s cheek. “Yes, more than I thought.” Then, with a sudden turn, she was out the door and down the street into the darkness.
Dash waited a few minutes, then ducked out the back of the old building. He felt an odd sensation inside. He didn’t know how much of it was concern for the old man’s health, worry over the possible infiltration of Keshian agents into the city, or the woman’s touch on his cheek. Muttering to himself, Dash said, “If only she wasn’t so damned attractive.”
Putting aside the distractions of a beautiful woman, he turned his mind back to the problems of protecting the city of Krondor.