Shards of a Broken Crown (37 page)

“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 good night, 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.

Jimmy halted.

The escort
stopped behind him. The Captain of the company of Patrick’s
Royal Household Guards said, “This is as far as we’re
supposed to go, m’lord.” He glanced around. “Leave
it to those—”

“Captain?”

“I mean no
disrespect to Lord Duko, m’lord, but after all, we were
fighting him and those miserable bastards he calls soldiers just last
year.” He noted Jimmy’s disapproving expression and said,
“Anyway, they should be here, making a camp, before they start
back to their patrol.”

“Maybe
they ran into some trouble.”

“Possible,
my lord.”

They were at a
fork in the road, the agreed-upon southern limit of Krondorian
patrols—everything to the south was Duko’s
responsibility. The southwest fork in the road led to Port Vykor,
while the southeast fork would start around the edge of Shandon Bay,
eventually leading toward Land’s End.

Jimmy said,
“We’ll be fine, Captain. We’re halfway to Port
Vykor and should be running into Lord Duko’s patrols any time
now. If they’re not here today, they’ll be here tomorrow,
I’m sure.”

“I’d
still feel better if you’d wait here until one shows up,
m’lord. We could linger here for another half-day or so.”

“Thanks,
but no, Captain. The sooner I get to Port Vykor, the sooner I can be
about the Prince’s business. We’ll continue along the
southwest road until sundown, then we’ll camp. If Duko’s
patrol doesn’t show up to escort us tomorrow, we’ll find
our way to Port Vykor alone.”

“Very
well, m’lord. May the gods watch over you.”

“And you,
too, Captain.”

They parted
company with the Krondorian patrol, who turned northward, while Jimmy
and Malar continued southwest. They rode through quiet countryside,
scrub grass, and what once might have been farmland, but which had
known the tread of die conqueror’s boot too often. Keshians on
their way to the Kingdom, and Kingdom soldiers on their way to Kesh,
had turned these rolling hills and sparse woodlands into a
no-man’s-land in the last hundred years. The rich lands of the
Vale of Dreams to the east kept farmers and their families struggling
despite the constant threat of war between two nations rolling over
them. The lands through which Jimmy and Malar rode offered no such
bounty. They might be the only two men for fifty miles in any
direction.

As the sun sank
low in the western sky, Malar asked, “What shall we do now, my
lord?”

Jimmy looked
around and pointed to a small dell near a clear-running stream. “Make
camp for the night. Tomorrow we’ll continue toward Port Vykor.”

Malar had
unsaddled the horses and brushed them down. Jimmy had discovered he
was a competent enough groom along with his other talents. Jimmy
said, “You feed the horses and I’ll gather some
firewood.”

Malar said,
“Yes, m’lord.”

Jimmy moved
around the campsite, finding enough small branches and sticks to make
a reasonable fire.

After the fire
was ready, Malar set about making an acceptable meal: hot trail
biscuits, a mix of dried beef and vegetables chopped and mixed into a
pot of rice, to which he added spices which made it quite flavorful.
Malar produced a ceramic bottle of wine from Darkmoor. He even had a
pair of cups.

As they ate,
Jimmy said, “Port Vykor is a bit out of the way for you. If
you’re up to the risk, you may have that horse and ride on to
the east. You’re still north of the frontier and should be able
to reach the vale safely.”

Malar shrugged.
“I will reach the vale eventually, my lord. My master is almost
certainly dead, but perhaps his family has conspired to keep his
business afloat and I can be of use to them. But I would rather spend
a little more time in your company—the fierceness of your blade
makes me more comfortable on the road than I would be alone.”

“You
managed well enough for those winter months you wandered in the
wilderness.”

“Of
necessity, but not by choice. And most of that time was spent
starving and hiding.”

Jimmy nodded. He
ate his meal and sipped his wine. “Is this off?” he
asked.

Malar sipped his
wine. “Not that I can tell, young lord.”

Jimmy shrugged.
“It’s odd for this type of wine. Something metallic.”

Malar took
another sip. “Not that I can notice, sir. Perhaps you are just
getting an odd aftertaste from the food. Maybe with the next drink it
will taste differently.”

Jimmy sipped
again and swallowed. “No, it’s definitely off.” He
set the cup aside. “I think some water would be better.”
Malar started to stand, and Jimmy said, “I’ll get it.”
He started walking toward the creek and suddenly felt a wave of
dizziness. He turned and looked to where the horses were tied. The
horse seemed to be moving away from him, and then he felt as if he
stepped into a hole, for he was now a great deal closer to the ground
than before. He looked down and saw that he was on his knees, and as
he tried to stand, his head swam. He fell hard to the ground and
rolled over on his back. The face of Malar Enares moved into his
view, and from a great distance, said, “I believe the wine
was
off, young Lord James.”

The features of
the man moved out of view and Jimmy tried to follow him. Jimmy rolled
over and, lying with his head on his arm, he could see Malar move to
Jimmy’s horse, and open the pouches with all his messages to
Duke Duko. He glanced at several of them, nodded, and put them back
into the pouch.

Jimmy felt his
legs getting cold and felt a distant stab of panic. His thinking was
growing foggy and he couldn’t remember what it was he was
supposed to do. His throat was tightening and his breathing was
growing labored. Jimmy tried to force open his mouth with his left
hand, which now felt as if he were wearing huge gloves. Dull
sensations reached his brain, and suddenly he gagged on his own
fingers, vomit rushing up through his mouth and nose. He gasped and
choked, spat, and groaned aloud. His body wracked with pain as he
felt his stomach heave again.

Malar’s
voice came from a great distance away. “It’s a pity such
a fair young lord has to come to such a messy and undignified end,
but such are the necessities of war.”

Somewhere in a
dim evening, Jimmy heard a horse riding away, and then he was hit by
another agonizing cramp and everything faded from view.

Dash looked
across the faces of the men who had been recruited. Some were
ex-soldiers, grey-haired men who remembered how to handle a sword.
Others were street toughs, men who were just as likely to be brawling
in a tavern as trying to keep the peace in the city. A few were
mercenaries, looking for steady work, men who were clearly Kingdom
citizens and who were not known criminals.

“We’re
presently under martial law in Krondor, which means just about any
violation of the law is a hanging offense.”

The men looked
at one another, some nodding.

Dash continued,
“This will start to change as of today. You are the first
company of the new City Watch. You will be instructed in what that
means in greater detail as we go, but unfortunately, we have no time
to educate you before we begin. So, I will make a few things clear to
you all.” He held up a red armband, upon which a rough coat of
arms, which looked like the Prince’s, had been sewn. “You’ll
wear this at all times when on duty. It’s what marks you as the
Prince’s men. You break a head while wearing this, you’re
restoring order; you break a head without it, and you’re
another thug I’ll see behind bars. Is that clear?”

The men nodded
and grunted agreement.

“I’ll
make this simple. This armband doesn’t give you the right to
bully, to settle old grudges, or to annoy the women in the town. Any
man here who is convicted of assault, rape, or theft while wearing
this will be hanged. Is that clear?”

The men were
silent a moment, and a few nodded they understood. “Is that
clear?” Dash repeated, and the men were more vocal in
acknowledging the question.

“Now,
until we can recruit a full-blown City Watch, the routine will be a
half-day on, then a half-day off. One day in five, you’ll work
round the clock while the other half will get the day to themselves.
If you know any men of arms-bearing age who can be recruited and can
be trusted, send them to see me.”

Using a chopping
motion, he split the forty men in the room in half. “You,”
he said to the men on his right, “are the day watch. You,”
he said to the men on his left, “are the night watch. Get me
another twenty good men and we’ll go to three watches.”