Shards of a Broken Crown (5 page)

“When do
we leave?” said Jimmy.

“Now,”
said Erik. “There are a pair of horses waiting for you by the
postern gate, with supplies for a week.”

James said, “A
week? That means you’ll want us inside of Krondor when your
scouts reach the walls?”

Owen nodded. “Or
close by. Leave those uniforms here and dress like a couple of free
swords. If you get caught, tell them you’re Valemen looking to
enlist.”

Dash grinned,
but his tone was mocking. “Oh, joy. We’re playing at
spies again.”

Jimmy again
looked at his brother as if he were crazy, and said, “You do
find the oddest things entertaining.”

Arutha looked at
his two sons and said, “We just got confirming intelligence
that Duko has come south.”

“That’s
the stick in the anthill, isn’t it?” said Dash.

Arutha nodded.
“Indeed. If Duko gets established in Krondor before we do, he
threatens Port Vykor. Cut off Vykor and we have no communications
with the fleet; cut off the fleet, and we have no chance to resupply
from the Sunset Islands and the Far Coast.”

Owen said, “It
might be a feint, with Sarth being his real objective. But there’s
a report that a second force moves south along the road from Hawk’s
Hallow under the command of Nordan, Fadawah’s second.”

“That’s
a lot of soldiers slogging through the ice and mud,” said
Jimmy.

Arutha said,
“Krondor’s harbor is useless; Fadawah knows this. We
don’t know if he knows of Vykor’s harbor down in Shandon
Bay, but if he does, then this isn’t a feint.”

Jimmy glanced at
his brother, then said to his father, “So you want us to find
out which?”

“If
possible,” said Arutha. “If he’s just trying to
slow down our march, so he can reinforce Sarth, we have to know.”

Dash looked
around the room, then asked, “Anything else?”

Arutha said,
“Stay alive?”

Jimmy smiled.
“We always plan on that, Father.”

Arutha came and
embraced his sons, Dash first, then Jimmy.

Dash said, “Come
on, we have some riding to do this night.”

Jimmy resumed
looking dubious as they left the room.

Dash signaled.

Jimmy took out
his sword and ducked behind the boulder. Dash left his own position
on the south side of the King’s Highway and dropped into a
ditch that ran parallel to the road for several hundred feet.

The brothers had
been riding for two days. The thaw had begun and there was actually
some warmth in the sunlight when it came out from behind the
seemingly constant cloud cover. But the temperature didn’t fall
below freezing anymore, and the rain helped melt the snow. As Dash
lay in the cold mud he wished for the ice again. The ooze slowed
travel and he didn’t seem able to get dry, even when staying
close to a fire at night.

They had heard
voices in the woods ahead a few minutes ago, had dismounted, tied
their horses, and advanced on foot. As the sound of approaching feet
grew louder, Dash chanced a glance over the edge of the berm, and saw
a ragged band of travelers looking about in a fearful manner as they
moved eastward along the King’s Highway. There was a man and
woman, and children, three of them, though one—Dash couldn’t
tell if it was a girl or boy under the heavy hood—seemed almost
of adult height.

Dash stood as
Jimmy came from behind the boulder. The man in the van of the small
party of refugees pulled a wicked-looking hand scythe from under his
ragged cloak and held it in menacing fashion as the others turned as
if to flee.

“Hold!”
Jimmy shouted. “We’ll not harm you.”

The man looked
dubious, the others fearful, but they halted their movement. Jimmy
and Dash both put away weapons and slowly approached.

The man didn’t
lower his scythe. “Who be you?” he said, his words
heavily accented.

Jimmy and Dash
exchanged glances, for the man spoke with the accent of one who had
come from Novindus. This man at one time had been a soldier with the
invading army of the Emerald Queen.

Dash held up his
hands to show he was not holding any weapon, and Jimmy stopped
moving. Jimmy said, “We’re travelers. Who are you?”

The woman
ventured to step from behind the man’s protection. She was
gaunt and looked weak. Jimmy glanced to the others and saw that the
children were equally underfed. The tallest of the three was a girl,
perhaps fifteen years of age, though appearing older for the deep
dark circles under her eyes. Jimmy returned his attention to the
woman, who looked at him and said, “We were farmers.” She
pointed to the east. “We’re trying to reach Darkmoor. We
hear there’s food there.”

Jimmy nodded.
“Some. Where are you from?”

“Tannerus,”
said the woman.

Dash pointed at
the man. “He’s not from Tannerus.”

The man nodded.
He motioned at himself with his free hand and said, “Markin.
From City of the Serpent River.” He glanced around. “Long
way from here.”

“You were
a soldier of the Emerald Queen?” asked Jimmy.

The man spat on
the ground and it looked as if the gesture was taking most of his
strength. “I spit on her!” He started to wobble and the
woman put her arms around him.

“He’s
a farmer,” she said. “He told us his story when he came
to us.”

Jimmy looked at
Dash, then motioned with his head back toward the horses. Dash didn’t
need to be told what was on his brother’s mind. He turned and
walked back while Jimmy said, “Why don’t you tell us his
story.”

“My man
went to fight for the King,” said the woman. “Two years
ago.” She glanced back at the three children and said, “My
girls are fit to work; Hildi’s almost grown. We did all right
for the first year. Then the soldiers came and took the town. Our
farm was far enough away we weren’t troubled for a while.”

Dash returned
leading the horses. He handed the reins to Jimmy, then went back and
opened a saddlebag. He returned a moment later, unwrapping a bundle.
Once opened, he revealed some heavy travel bread, thick with honey
and nuts and dried fruit, and some jerked beef. Without hesitation
the children passed their mother and grabbed what they could.

Dash glanced at
Jimmy and nodded slightly. He gave the rest of the bundle to the man,
who passed it along to the woman and said, “Thank you.”

“How did
an enemy soldier come to be guiding your family to Darkmoor?”
asked Dash.

The woman and
man both nearly wept in gratitude as they chewed on the heavy bread.
After swallowing, the woman said, “When the soldiers came, we
hid in the woods, and they took everything. We had only what we had
carried away. Then out of spite they burned the roof off our house
and broke down the door. Sticks and thatch was all it was, but it was
the only home the girls had known.”

She glanced
about, afraid other threats might appear suddenly from the
surrounding woods. “Markin found us when we were trying to
rebuild our house. It was never what you’d call fine, but my
man had spent years adding to it, making it more than just a hut. But
the soldiers had burned it down and the girls and me had no tools.”

“I find
them,” said Markin. “They needed help.”

“He came
and he fought for us. Other men came, many with swords and bows, but
he kept them from taking me or the girls.” She glanced at him
with obvious affection in her eyes. “He’s my man now, and
he’s a fair da‘ to the girls.”

Jimmy sighed. To
Dash he said, “We’ll hear stories like this one a hundred
times before we’re through.”

“Why
Darkmoor?” asked Jimmy.

“We hear
the King’s there and there’s food for the asking.”

Jimmy smiled.
“No, the King’s not there, though he was last year. But
there’s food for work.”

“I work
good,” said the foreign-born soldier.

“Can we
go?” asked the woman.

“Yes,”
said Dash, motioning for them to pass.

Markin said,
“You soldiers?”

Jimmy grinned.
“Not if we can help it.”

“But you
noble man. Markin can tell.”

Dash said dryly,
“I’ve known him all my life and can tell you he’s
far from noble most of the time.”

The old soldier
studied the two, then said, “If you try to look like common
men, you don’t.” He pointed down to Jimmy’s feet.
“Dirty, but nobleman’s boots.”

He motioned for
the woman and girls to follow him and moved carefully on, not taking
his eyes off the brothers until his small band was past. Then he
turned and hurried along, taking his position in the van, against any
other unexpected encounters.

“First
time I regretted having comfortable boots,” said Dash.

Jimmy looked
down and said, “Well, we may be muddy, but he’s right.”
Glancing around, he added, “This is a place of little food and
even less comfort.”

Dash remounted
his horse. “I suspect by the time we get to Krondor we won’t
look quite so prosperous.”

Jimmy also
mounted, and said, “Maybe we should get off this highway.”

Dash said, “The
north road?” He referred to an old road his one-time employer,
Rupert Avery, used regularly to move goods, avoiding the tolls
charged on the King’s Highway.

Jimmy shook his
head. “No, that’s almost as busy as this one, and those
woods are going to be full of deserters and bandits.”

“The
south?”

“Slower
going, but there are enough trails along the lakes if we don’t
head too far into the southern hills.”

Dash said,
“Since Kesh pulled south to the old border, everything from
here to their nearest garrison is going to be wilderness.”

Jimmy laughed.
“What’s the difference if we run into fifty deserters
from the Emerald Queen’s army, or fifty bandits, or fifty
Keshian mercenaries . . .” He shrugged.

Dash made a show
of shivering under his heavy cloak. “Let’s hope whoever’s
down there is hugging their fires. As any sane man would do.”

Dash urged his
horse forward and soon the two brothers were riding south at a steady
walk. “Why do we do these things?” he asked.

Jimmy said,
“Because our King commands and we obey.”

Dash let out a
theatrical sigh. “1 thought it was something like that.”

Softly, Jimmy
began to sing a very old song:

“To Kesh’s
heartland or Queg’s harsh shore,
Our blood, our hearts, our
lives and more,
For honor’s sake do we obey,
And go over
the hills and far away. . .”

The sound of
cracking ice rang through the cold morning air and both brothers
pulled up just before entering a clearing. Using hand signals, Jimmy
motioned for Dash to move south along the edge of the clearing while
he circled north.

Dash nodded,
dismounted, and tied his horse to the branch of a small birch tree.
Jimmy did likewise and moved silently away.

Dash moved
through the thinning trees, bordering a burned-out farm, he judged
from the appearance of tree stumps nearby. The sound resolved itself
into a repeated hammering at ice.

Dash saw a man
in the distance.

A slender
figure, he crouched over the frozen ice on a large pond, perhaps a
hundred yards away from where Dash watched, hammering at the ice with
a rock. Up and down the rock moved, and Dash couldn’t help but
be fascinated with the sight.

Dash couldn’t
get a good look at the man, but his clothing seemed a hodgepodge of
rags and ill-matched garments. He might have worn boots, but all Dash
could see was a collection of rags tied around each foot for warmth.

Dash saw
movement in the woods beyond the pond and judged Jimmy was in place.
He waited.

Jimmy walked
slowly out of the woods and the man leaped to his feet with
astonishing speed. He turned away as Jimmy shouted, “Wait! I
won’t hurt you!”

Dash slowly took
out his sword as the tatters-clad man hurried toward him, trying to
keep his movement from alerting the ragged man. As the man reached
the first line of trees, Dash stepped out, extending his foot, and
tripped him.

The man went
down in a tangle of clothes and turned over, scuttling backward as he
shouted, “Don’t kill me!”

Dash moved
quickly to put the point of his sword before the man’s face, as
Jimmy caught up, out of breath.

Dash said,
“We’re not going to hurt you.” To demonstrate his
good intentions, he quickly sheathed his sword. “Get up.”

The man got up
slowly as Jimmy leaned over, hands on knees, and said, “He’s
fast.”

Dash grinned.
“You’d have caught him had you had another mile or so to
overtake him. You’ve always had endurance, if not speed.”
Turning his attention to the figure on the ground, he said, “Who
are you and what were you doing?”

The man slowly
rose, as if ready to bolt at the slightest threat, and said, “I
am called Malar Enares, young masters.” He was a slender man,
with a hawk nose sticking out over a large rag wrapped around his
face. His eyes were dark, and they shifted back and forth between the
brothers. “I was fishing.”

Jimmy and Dash
exchanged glances, and Dash said, “With a rock?”

“To break
the ice, young sir. Then when the fish comes up to sun himself, I
would strip bark and make a noose.”

Jimmy said, “You
were going to snare a fish?”

“It is
easy if you but have patience and a steady hand, young sir.”

Dash said, “I
hear Kesh in your speech.”

“Oh, no,
mercy, young sir. I am but a humble servant of a great trader of
Shamata, Kiran Hessen.”

Jimmy and Dash
had both heard the name. A trader with Keshian connections who did a
great deal of business with the late Jacob Esterbrook. Since the
destruction of Krondor, the boys’ father, Lord Arutha, had
pieced together several accounts that had clearly indicated two
facts, that Esterbrook had been a long-standing agent of Great Kesh,
and that he and his daughter were both dead. Jimmy could see what
Dash was thinking: if Esterbrook had been a Keshian agent, so then
could Kiran Hessen.