Krondor the Betrayal (16 page)

‘‘You’d better learn to hold your ale, Owyn,’’ said Jimmy with a grin.

They moved down the road, and James wasn’t surprised to find Gorath suddenly beside them, though Owyn nearly leaped sideways when the dark elf materialized out of the evening gloom.

‘‘Find anything?’’ asked James.

‘‘Tracks. Moredhel have been through here recently.’’

‘‘What else?’’

‘‘A fair number of people are passing to the north of town, not through it.’’

‘‘We can assume they don’t wish to be seen. Which way were they going, east or west.’’

‘‘Both. A lot of people moving in both directions, but keeping out of sight.’’

James shook his head in consternation. ‘‘Damn, I don’t like any of this.’’

They remained silent as they reached the abbey. ‘‘Well,’’ said Graves, as they entered the former common room, ‘‘how was the lecture?’’

‘‘Could have used a singer,’’ said James with a straight face.

‘‘Duke Armand de Sevigny will be lecturing here next month,’’ said Graves, ‘‘and Baldwin de la Troville the month after.’’

James assured him, ‘‘I’ll try not to miss the lectures. Have you a place we can sleep tonight?’’

‘‘You’re welcome to bed down under the tables here in the commons, Jimmy, but the rooms upstairs are being used by the brothers or for storage.’’

‘‘Under the tables will be fine,’’ said Owyn, unrolling his 106

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bedding from his travel bundle. Gorath did likewise without comment.

James sat opposite the former thief turned cleric, and, keeping his voice low, said, ‘‘Why you, Ethan?’’

The Abbot shrugged. ‘‘I don’t know, Jimmy. You know the order wants to be close to Sethanon,’’ he said. ‘‘There’s a rough village forming up a few miles south of the old city but nothing you’d call a proper town. It’s still a decent trading route, though, and some folks seek to profit by caravans and traders passing by. It would be too obvious for us to try to build an abbey there. But here we can be circumspect and still send a brother up there to snoop around from time to time, just to ensure nothing disturbs the status quo.’’

‘‘I noticed the next two lecturers are men Bas-Tyra trusts.’’

Graves nodded. ‘‘There’re too many strange things going on for him to do otherwise. Some of the other nobles . . .’’ He shrugged. ‘‘They’re not as trustworthy as they could be.’’

‘‘You don’t think treason, do you?’’

‘‘I don’t know what to think,’’ said Graves. ‘‘I’m a former thief who has been handpicked by the temple in Rillanon for a potentially difficult, even critical assignment.’’ He looked down as if afraid to look James in the eyes. ‘‘I don’t know if I’m equal to the task.’’

‘‘I’ve never heard you act the shy role before, Ethan.’’

Graves sighed. ‘‘There’s a lot you don’t know, Jimmy. I have some old . . . ties, you could say. They aren’t easily broken.

You know how it is.’’

James laughed. ‘‘Better than most. I have a death mark on me from the Mockers if I cross their boundaries, yet I do so all the time. And they conveniently ignore my trespass when it suits them. I know what you mean, I think.’’

Graves said, ‘‘I hope when the time comes, you do know what I mean.’’ He stood up. ‘‘I must retire. There’s a great deal to be done around here. Have a good night, Jimmy.’’

‘‘You too, Ethan.’’

James undid his own bedding and lay down next to Owyn, who was already fast asleep. As he drifted off himself, he wondered what Graves had meant by ‘‘when the time comes.’’

*

*

Raymond E. Feist

The north wind cut through the night. James huddled under his cloak as the three stayed close to their fire. The road from Malac’s Cross to Silden was far less traveled than the King’s Highway to Salador, but it was a more direct route. Behind them, the three horses James had purchased, along with tack, were quietly eating the grain he had bought for them.

Owyn said, ‘‘James, I’m worried about something, and I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it since we left Malac’s Cross.’’

Gorath said, ‘‘You have seemed troubled.’’

James asked, ‘‘What is it?’’

‘‘I don’t know exactly, but it’s something I picked up from the Oracle . . . A sense of foreboding.’’

‘‘Given our circumstances,’’ said Gorath, ‘‘that is not particularly inappropriate.’’

‘‘What do you mean?’’ asked James, looking intently at Owyn.

‘‘It’s like the Oracle was worried.’’

James was silent, then said, ‘‘I’m no expert, and I’ve never seen the Oracle myself, but from what I hear, the Oracle can tell futures, but not her own.’’

‘‘Futures?’’ said Gorath.

James paused, then said, ‘‘Maybe I’m telling it wrong, but the magician Pug once told me that the future is not set in stone, but the result of many acts, and that by changing an act today, the future changes.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘As if you had not come south, Gorath, Delekhan’s plans would be farther along.’’

‘‘I understand that,’’ said Gorath. ‘‘But if the future is fluid, what good is an Oracle?’’

James shrugged. ‘‘There is a great deal of wisdom in this Oracle, I have been told.’’

Owyn looked at Gorath, and said, ‘‘I think James is right.

But I still don’t know about that feeling of worry.’’

‘‘Perhaps the Oracle’s fate is bound up in what we do,’’

suggested Gorath. ‘‘Then it would be difficult for her to see the future, if what James said is correct. Perhaps that is the source of the worry.’’

James said nothing. He was one of the few who knew of 108

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the existence of the Lifestone under Sethanon. Only a handful of those who had been at the battle knew of the magic relic from the time of the Dragon Lords. Few knew that the Oracle of Aal was the guardian of the Lifestone and resided in a vast chamber below the City of Sethanon.

The statue at Malac’s Cross was designed to mislead those who knew nothing of the dragon Oracle’s existence. Should any come seeking the Oracle, it provided the means for them to contact her without actually being in her presence.

James said, ‘‘I’m trying to puzzle together some things. We have Tsurani Great Ones getting their riches stolen, so that Tsurani renegades can sell them to moredhel raiders, who swap them for weapons. We have a false Guild of Death, maybe to mask some real Nighthawks who survived the night we burned their headquarters to the ground in Krondor, and a lot of false trails in the West predicting an invasion from the North.’’

Gorath said, ‘‘My people will proceed cautiously. They will want some indication from Delekhan that Murmandamus indeed is alive in Sethanon, being held there against his will, before they will march.’’

James said, ‘‘No offense to your people, but that sort of

‘proof’ is easy to make.’’

‘‘Agreed,’’ said Gorath, ‘‘which is why Delekhan is attempting to remove all of us who were in opposition to him.’’

James lay back, wrapping the cloak around him. ‘‘Well, we may find answers or we may not, but right now I could use some sleep.’’

‘‘You going to look for that double of yours in Lyton?’’

asked Owyn.

‘‘It’s on the way,’’ said James. ‘‘Might as well while we’re passing through town.’’

Owyn rolled over, trying to get close enough to the fire to stay warm without burning himself. Gorath just lay silently, until he was asleep.

Sleep was a long time in coming for James as he wrestled with all the fragments and clues he had. Somewhere in all this apparent chaos was a pattern; somehow all the pieces came together and made sense.

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*

*

Gorath saw them first, and James said, ‘‘I wouldn’t have even noticed them if you hadn’t pointed them out to me.’’

‘‘There are four of them, and they seem very curious as to the contents of that abandoned barn,’’ said the dark elf.

James said, ‘‘My bump of trouble is itching like mad. I think we’ve found our real Nighthawks.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘What do we do?’’

Pulling his sword, James replied, ‘‘Kill them before they notice us, if we’re lucky.’’

He turned his horse off the road and moved forward at a trot. They traveled across an abandoned field, overgrown with tall grass, which rose to chest height on the horses. It masked their movement for a while, as the dark-clad figures seemed intent on the barn, which allowed James and his companions to reach the edge of the field before being seen.

The assassin who first saw them shouted, and two others turned, as James spurred his horse forward to charge. One of the black-clad men carried a sword and readied himself to strike at James, while another leaped out of the way. At the corner of the barn, a third figure easily drew an arrow and nocked it to his bow, pulling back in a fluid draw. Suddenly a dark nimbus of energy splashed the side of the barn, missing him, but distracting him enough that he fell back without shooting.

Gorath was upon the second man, leaping from the back of his horse, while James engaged the first. Owyn cursed as he realized that while he had managed to unravel the mystery of the spell Nago had thrown at him and could now duplicate it, he couldn’t control it very well. He hoisted his staff over his head like a war club and rode toward the bowman, trying to strike him before he could loose his arrow.

Gorath crushed his opponent’s throat with the flat of his blade and rose up to see James having difficulty with his man, while Owyn rode around flailing at the third with his staff.

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The bowman was so busy trying to keep from having his head stove in by Owyn’s staff he couldn’t stop long enough to shoot.

He finally tossed down his bow and tried to draw his sword.

James saw Gorath standing uncertain of which way to move, and shouted, ‘‘Find the fourth one!’’

Gorath was off without another word, moving around the corner to find the door of the barn open. Inside was darkness to confound the human eye, but to the dark elf it was a pattern of darkness and light, greys and darker greys. He saw movement in the rafters above and along one wall to his left. He waited.

A moment later, the figure in the rafters slipped, causing some hay to fall, and the figure near the wall let fly an arrow in the direction of the sound. Gorath charged. Before the Nighthawk could pull and fire again, the dark elf was upon him.

The struggle lasted mere seconds as Gorath quickly killed his man. Outside Jimmy bested his own and turned his attention to the one Owyn harried.

When the fighting was over, James and Owyn entered the barn, and James said, ‘‘What’s here?’’

Gorath pointed up to the rafters and announced, ‘‘Someone hides up there.’’

James said, ‘‘Come down. We mean you no harm.’’

A man lowered himself from the rafters, hanging by his hands a moment before releasing his hold and dropping to the dirt floor. He landed nimbly on his toes and looked at his rescuers. ‘‘Thanks,’’ he said.

The man moved toward them, and when he stopped a few feet away, Owyn said, ‘‘Gods!’’

James looked at the man, who looked enough like him to be his twin. ‘‘You must be Lysle,’’ said James.

‘‘Why do you assume that?’’ asked the man.

‘‘Because people keep mistaking me for you,’’ said James, moving around so he faced the door and the scant light from outside could strike his features. ‘‘It got me almost murdered by some unhappy folks up in Tannerus some months back.’’

The man laughed. ‘‘Sorry, but they’re waiting for me to return with some items they sent me to purchase on their behalf.

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I’ve been distracted and am overdue in getting back there.’’

He paused a moment, then said, ‘‘You do look enough like me to confuse people, it’s true. I’m Lysle Riggers.’’

‘‘I’m James, from Krondor,’’ came the reply. ‘‘These are my friends, Owyn and Gorath. We were on our way to Romney, and when we were in Malac’s Cross an old woman thought I was you.’’

‘‘Old Petrumh,’’ said Lysle. ‘‘She’s a little crazy. She’s been that way since her husband died in a fire. Most of the folks in town give her something to eat or let her sleep in their barns.

For some reason she’s taken to telling everyone she’s my gran.’’ He shook his head.

‘‘Care to tell us why a bunch of Nighthawks are trying to kill you?’’

‘‘Nighthawks?’’ asked Riggers, shrugging. ‘‘Assassins? Can’t say as I would know why. Maybe they thought I was you.’’

Gorath looked at James and said nothing. Owyn said,

‘‘Maybe—’’

James cut him off. ‘‘No, someone wants
you
dead, Riggers.

Let’s head into town, and maybe by the time we get there you’ll remember why.’’

The man looked at the three before him as if weighing the possibility of flight or resistance. Obviously discarding either as an option, he nodded. ‘‘Let’s go. The Wayside is a decent enough inn, and I could use an ale after all this.’’

‘‘Check the bodies,’’ said James. Gorath and Owyn went outside to do so. ‘‘You have anything you need to fetch?’’ asked James.

Riggers said, ‘‘No. I had a sword, but lost it somewhere back in the woods running from those four. It wasn’t a very good one. I’ll take one off the dead outside.’’

Moving outside, James said, ‘‘Fair enough.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘They’re carrying nothing, James. No papers, no money, nothing. Just weapons and those black clothes.’’

Gorath came over, and said, ‘‘And these,’’ as he held up a medallion with a hawk on it.

James took it, inspected it, and threw it to the ground.

‘‘These are the real Nighthawks,’’ he said. ‘‘Not those frauds down in Krondor.’’

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‘‘Frauds?’’ asked Riggers.

‘‘It’s a long story.’’

‘‘Good,’’ said Riggers. ‘‘That means a second ale. Let’s go.’’

He set off toward the distant lights of the town, while the others mounted up.