Krondor the Betrayal (24 page)

‘‘That the Guild of Assassins has set up shop around here, and they’ve marked the Baron for some sort of punishment.’’

James said, ‘‘Thank you, Peter. Sorry to have disturbed you.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘Why did you want him to come back?’’

‘‘To help me think this through,’’ said James. ‘‘Look, the Nighthawks aren’t trying to kill the Baron. They’re trying to make the Baron stay in his house.’’

‘‘Why?’’ asked Gorath.

James said, ‘‘To stop him from rebuilding the keep.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘What in the world good would that do? It’s an old fortification, and if there’s an army heading this way, it’s not going to cause them much trouble.’’

James said, ‘‘I don’t think anyone cares about the keep. I think they care about what’s under it.’’

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Owyn’s eyes widened. ‘‘The run?’’

‘‘You said there was a secret passage into the caverns that run under the mountains, and the old keep’s armory and storage are down there. You could hide an army under there, I bet.’’

‘‘Or a nest of Nighthawks,’’ added Gorath.

Owyn said, ‘‘But how would they know?’’

‘‘The run isn’t a family secret, is it?’’

‘‘No, a few others know of its existence, but finding the entrance from outside would be nearly impossible.’’

‘‘Owyn!’’ a female voice cried happily from across the inn.

They turned to see a tall, leggy young woman in a simple dress hurrying across the room. She nearly knocked Owyn back into his chair as he tried to stand up while she threw her arms around him.

‘‘Uh, Ugyne!’’ said Owyn, grinning and blushing at the same time as she hugged him.

The girl was pretty in a sunburned, wild fashion. Her hair was windblown and unkempt and she looked as if she had been sitting on the ground, as her dress was streaked with dried mud in the back.

She stopped hugging him long enough to deliver an enthusi-astic kiss on the lips, then she stood back, holding him at arm’s length as she studied her cousin. ‘‘You’ve grown into a fair-looking man, given what a pathetic little boy you were,’’ she said with a laugh.

Owyn blushed deeply and laughed. ‘‘You haven’t changed, I see.’’

She pushed him back into the chair then sat down imperi-ously on his lap. ‘‘Of course I have. I was a little girl the last time you saw me; now I’m a grown woman.’’

James grinned. This grown woman appeared to be eighteen at the outside, and while she was striking in her vivaciousness, she was still a little gangly and moved with a studied purpose, as if to mask her uncertainty.

Owyn said, ‘‘Ugyne, these are my friends, James, and Gorath.’’

She nodded and smiled as she said, ‘‘Hello.’’ Of Owyn, she asked, ‘‘Have you seen Daddy yet? I assume you did. Tad was the one who told me you were here.’’

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‘‘We did, and if we’re here on Sixthday, we’ll be dining with you.’’

‘‘Oh, please do stay. Supper alone with Father is such a bore.’’

James said, ‘‘We may be gone, Ugyne. We have pressing business.’’

‘‘What sort of business?’’ she asked with a pout. She looked at Owyn. ‘‘My favorite cousin comes to town after too many years and wants to bolt the next day?’’

Owyn said, ‘‘No, but we’re on . . . business for the Crown.’’

‘‘Oh?’’ she said with raised eyebrows. ‘‘Really?’’

James nodded. ‘‘Really.’’

‘‘Well, then,’’ she said, ‘‘I’ll have to insist that either Father have you over earlier or you stay, but you’ll not leave town until we’ve had a chance to visit.’’

‘‘What have you been doing with yourself?’’ asked Owyn.

‘‘You father seems very concerned about how you spend your time.’’

She turned up her nose at the mention of her father’s opinion, and said, ‘‘Father wants me to sit around all day in that dark house, waiting for some noble to ride up and take my hand in marriage, and is terrified I’ll run off with someone.’’

‘‘Anyone in particular?’’ asked Owyn.

She reached over and took his mug of ale and took a delicate sip from it, as if it was the most brazen act imaginable.

‘‘There’s Myron, Daddy’s solicitor here in the village. He’s a widower with a lovely little girl I adore, but he’s so . . .’’

‘‘Dull?’’ supplied James.

‘‘No, predictable. He’s a nice man, but I want something more.’’

‘‘Anyone else?’’ asked Owyn.

‘‘Why? Did I say there was anyone else?’’ she asked with a glimmer in her eyes and a smile on her lips.

‘‘No,’’ said Owyn, ‘‘but your father did.’’

‘‘Navon du Sandau,’’ said Ugyne. ‘‘He makes Father furious.’’

‘‘Why?’’ asked James.

‘‘He’s a man of trade, not nobility, and even Myron, my father’s solicitor, is related to nobility: he’s the nephew of the late Earl of Silden, on his mother’s side.’’

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‘‘Are you in love with Navon?’’ asked Owyn.

She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. ‘‘Not really. He’s interesting, if a little . . . strange.’’

‘‘Strange?’’ asked Owyn. ‘‘How?’’

‘‘I find him staring at me in odd ways, when he thinks I’m not looking.’’

Owyn laughed and tickled her. ‘‘That’s because you are odd-looking.’’

She playfully slapped his hands away. ‘‘But he’s interesting.

He’s very attractive, and intelligent, and he says he’s been everywhere. And he has a great deal of wealth, which is the only reason Father hasn’t ordered him whipped out of town by Father’s guards. If I can’t marry nobility, Father will settle for wealth.’’

‘‘Are you going to marry this Navon?’’

‘‘Probably not,’’ she said, jumping out of Owyn’s lap. ‘‘He’s too ardent and . . . dangerous.’’

‘‘Dangerous?’’ said Gorath, speaking for the first time to the girl. ‘‘I know little of your customs, but isn’t that an odd term to describe a suitor?’’

She shrugged, and replied, ‘‘I don’t know. He’s fascinating, if a little odd at times, and he’s taught me a few things.’’

‘‘Oh?’’ asked Owyn, his voice registering both curiosity and disapproval.

She punched him in the shoulder. ‘‘Not that, you evil boy!

He’s taught me about things like poetry, music, and he’s taught me to play chess.’’

‘‘Chess?’’ asked Owyn, casting a glance at James.

‘‘Yes,’’ she said. ‘‘He’s the finest chess player in Kenting Rush, probably in the entire area. He travels to Malac’s Cross regularly to play against the best in the Kingdom at the Queen’s Row Tavern and has played against nobles in Krondor and Great Kesh!’’ Her description indicated some pride in the claims.

‘‘Well,’’ said James. ‘‘Perhaps we can meet him sometime.’’

‘‘Come to supper on Sixthday and you can,’’ she said. ‘‘He’s coming to see me by the end of the week!’’

With a laugh and a half twirl that set her skirt swirling around her knees, she turned and half skipped, half walked 165

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to the door. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at Owyn and left.

Gorath said, ‘‘The women of your people are . . . interesting.’’

James laughed. ‘‘She’s young. She’s working a little too hard at being vivacious.’’ He shook his head in appreciation. ‘‘But give her a couple of years and she won’t have to work. She’s quite the charmer.’’

Owyn sighed as he leaned back in his chair. ‘‘She’s the only member of my family I ever really cared for around here.’’

Peter the Grey arrived with their food, and as he set the table, Owyn said, ‘‘I never knew my cousin Neville, he died when I was but nine, and I had only seen him once before that.’’

Peter interrupted, ‘‘Baron Corvallis’s Neville?

‘‘You said you were in to see him, young sir, but nothing about being his nephew.’’

‘‘Sorry,’’ said Owyn. ‘‘I wasn’t trying to hide the fact.’’

‘‘You’re young Owyn,’’ he said. ‘‘You don’t remember me, do you?’’

Owyn said, ‘‘Sorry, but I don’t.’’

‘‘I was one of the cooks up in the keep, before that tragic day when young Neville died. You were only six or seven back then, and I only saw you once or twice when you visited.

I bought this inn not long after, and you never stopped in before today. The old Baron, well, it changed him. He was a different man after that, but it killed his wife.’’

‘‘I don’t remember much about it,’’ admitted Owyn.

Peter needed little prompting to gossip, and said, ‘‘Well, the story goes that there was some difficulty between the Baron and the master builder he hired to work on the lower caves and tunnels as he expanded his wine cellar. The odd thing was he was also named du Sandau, like Navon.’’

James and Owyn exchanged glances.

Peter went on. ‘‘Well, this Sandau was the finest stonemason in the region, but he was also a drunk and a womanizer; rumor is he had his way with many of the ladies of the court down in Rillanon before coming north.

‘‘He worked on several portions of the old run, under the 166

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keep, and usually the Baron was happy with the work. But this wine cellar, for some reason, had problems. They argued, and the Baron was always in a foul temper.

‘‘Then came that black day.’’

‘‘The day Neville died?’’ asked Owyn.

‘‘Yes, it was the same accident that killed Sandau. The ceiling collapsed. No one knew why. All the men in the area struggled for days to remove the rubble, but it was to no avail; Neville and the workers in the room died.’’

‘‘What was the boy doing in the room?’’ asked Gorath.

‘‘No one knows. He liked to watch the masons, and his father didn’t object.’’ Peter shrugged. ‘‘But the Baron’s never been quite the same since then. And the loss of the boy killed the Baroness, I will avow. She mourned for months, then got sick, and even the healing priests from the temples couldn’t keep her alive. She died a little more than a year after. Before the boy died, she was a woman of unusual steel. Ugyne’s like her; it’s what kept the girl sane, I think, losing a brother and mother within a year.’’ Peter shook his head in sympathy as he recalled the girl’s pain. ‘‘She’s managed to turn into quite a special person, by my lights.’’

James nodded as Owyn said, ‘‘She is, no argument.’’

Peter left, and James said, ‘‘This family of yours has had its share of tragedy.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘I know. But Ugyne seems to have found some happiness.’’

‘‘Even if it’s only tormenting her father,’’ said James, and even Gorath laughed at that.

‘‘Well, then,’’ asked Owyn, ‘‘what are we to do?’’

‘‘I think we have dinner with your uncle on Sixthday and I think we see if someone here wants to play chess.’’

Owyn nodded and sat back, content to rest a few days before the next conflict.

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Ten

•

W ATER THUNDERED DOWN THE MOUNTAINSIDE.

James, Gorath, and Owyn sat on their horses near the base of the falls. With a few days to fill in between their discussion with Ugyne and their coming supper with her father on Sixthday, James had decided to scout around. He had made sure the talkative Peter the Grey knew they were heading down the road on business, but as soon as they had cleared the precinct of Cavell Village, they had turned off the road to investigate Cavell Run.

The spray struck James as the wind shifted. ‘‘You used to play here?’’ he asked Owyn.

‘‘No, not really.’’ He pointed up the side of the mountain.

‘‘We used to play up there, in a pool, near the spot the bolt-hole exits the hillside.’’

Gorath said, ‘‘My people’s children are not allowed to play unsupervised.’’ With a note of contempt, he added, ‘‘But then you humans breed like field mice; if a child dies, you just have another.’’

James threw him a black look. ‘‘It’s not quite that simple.’’

Gorath asked, ‘‘So why are we here?’’

James asked, ‘‘If you wanted to use the old run as a base of operations, would you want the Baron and his family up there?’’

Owyn’s eyes widened. ‘‘You think the Nighthawks started the fire?’’

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James shrugged. ‘‘I don’t know. But it’s pretty convenient, and by harassing him, they keep the Baron from starting his rebuilding.’’

They rode along the banks of the river toward the cliffs, and Gorath said, ‘‘I have fought these Nighthawks at your side, and you have mentioned them before, but I still do not understand their part in all this.’’

James said, ‘‘It isn’t difficult; they’re a brotherhood of assassins who work for whoever pays their way. Mercenaries. I faced one on the roofs of Krondor when I was a boy and have faced them many times since then.

‘‘They were pawns of Murmandamus for a while and served with his Black Slayers.’’

Gorath almost spat. ‘‘The Black Slayers were an obscenity!

Men of no honor who gave over life and spirit to Murmandamus for promises of eternal power and glory! It is said by our lore keepers that those who did so will never join the Mothers and Fathers in the Life After.’’

James turned his horse to follow around a small knoll, and said, ‘‘I must admit, I know little of you or your elven kin, Gorath, though I’ve fought the moredhel and spent time with the glamredhel and elves.’’

Gorath said, ‘‘We dislike one another enough that we don’t like to talk about one another, it’s true, so I have no doubt you heard little good of us from the eledhel. The glamredhel are the mad ones, those without purpose and without magic.

They lived by their wits and held strong in the Edder Woods in the Northlands until they were hunted down and destroyed.’’

James shook his head. ‘‘Destroyed? They’ve gone to Elvandar and now reside there.’’

Gorath reined in his horse. ‘‘Delekhan!’’

‘‘What?’’ asked James, turning to look at the dark elf.

‘‘He let it be known that he had destroyed Earnon and his tribe in the Edder.’’

‘‘Well, Old King Redtree is alive and well, living up in Elvandar. Last I heard they were involved in some sort of discussion as to who was in charge.’’

Gorath tilted his head, as if listening to something. ‘‘In charge? I do not understand.’’

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‘‘I don’t pretend I do, either,’’ said James as they followed another bend in the road and began approaching the waterfall.