The Riftwar Saga

by Raymond E. Feist

  Jimmy pointed. ‘Interesting.’

  Locklear looked at the notation and said, ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ answered Jimmy, pitching his voice lower, ‘but think a minute about some of the things going on at the palace. We get held back from the procession, then we ask the Princess about it. We’re out of her quarters less than ten minutes when we’re sent on this useless errand. You tell me, doesn’t it seem like we’re being kept out of the way? Something’s … odd.’

  ‘That’s what I said earlier,’ said Locklear impatiently.

  The clerk found and handed over the requested paper, and the guard escorted the boys back to the palace. Running past the gate guards, Jimmy and Locklear waved absently, then headed toward the steward’s office.

  Once inside the palace, they appeared at the office as the steward, Baron Giles, was leaving. ‘There you are,’ he said in an accusatory tone. ‘I thought I was going to have to send guards to ferret you out of wherever you were lazing away the day.’ Jimmy and Locklear exchanged glances. The steward seemed to have forgotten about the manifest entirely. Jimmy handed it to him.

  ‘What’s this?’ He examined the paper. ‘Oh yes,’ he remarked, tossing the paper upon his desk. ‘I’ll deal with that later. I must be off to see the procession depart the palace. You will stay here. Should any emergency arise, one of you will remain in this office while the other will come and find me. Once the bier has left the gate, I will return.’

  ‘Do you anticipate any problems, sir,’ asked Jimmy.

  Walking past the boys, the steward said, ‘Of course not, but it always pays to be prepared. I shall return in a short time.’

  After he left, Locklear turned to face Jimmy. ‘All right. What’s going on? And don’t you dare say “You’ll see.”’

  ‘Things are not what they seem to be. Come on.’

  Jimmy and Locklear dashed up the stairs. Reaching a window overlooking the court, they quietly observed the preparations below. The funeral procession was assembling, the rolling bier moving into place, escorted by a hand-picked company of Arutha’s Household Guard. It was pulled by a matched set of six black horses, each bedecked with black plumes and hand-led by a groom dressed in black. The soldiers fell in on each side of the bier.

  A group of eight men-at-arms came from within the palace, bearing the casket containing Arutha. They moved to a rolling scaffolding that allowed them to raise the casket high atop the bier. Slowly, almost reverently, they hoisted the Prince of Krondor up onto the black shrouded structure.

  Jimmy and Locklear looked down into the casket and, for the first time, could clearly see the Prince. Tradition held the procession should move out with the casket open so the populace could behold their ruler a last time. It would be closed outside the city gates, never to be opened again, save once more in the privacy of the family vault below the King’s palace in Rillanon, where Arutha’s family would bid him a final farewell.

  Jimmy felt his throat tightening. He swallowed hard, moving the stubborn lump. He saw Arutha had been laid out in his favourite garb, his brown velvet tunic, his russet leggings. A green jerkin had been added, though he had rarely worn such. His favourite rapier was clasped between his hands, and his head remained uncovered. He seemed asleep. As he was moved out of view, Jimmy noticed the fine satin lounging slippers on the Prince’s feet.

  Then a groom came forward, leading Arutha’s horse, which would follow behind the bier, riderless. It was a magnificent grey stallion, which tossed its head high and struggled against the groom. Another ran out and between the two of them they managed to quiet the fractious mount.

  Jimmy’s eyes narrowed. Locklear turned in time to notice the odd expression. ‘What?’

  ‘Damn me, but something’s odd. Come on, I want to see a thing or two.’

  ‘Where?’

  But Jimmy was off, saying merely, ‘Hurry, we only have a few minutes!’ as he ran down the stairs. Locklear chased after, groaning silently.

  Jimmy hid in the shadow near the stable. ‘Look,’ he said as he pushed Locklear forward. Locklear made a show of strolling past the stable entrance as the last of the honour guard’s mounts were being led out. Nearly the entire garrison would be walking behind the Prince’s bier, but once outside the city, a full company of Royal Lancers would act as escort all the way to Salador.

  ‘Hey, you boy! Watch what you’re about!’ Locklear had to jump aside as a groom ran from the stable between two horses, holding their bridles. He had almost run Locklear down. Locklear ambled back and ducked around the corner beside Jimmy.

  ‘I don’t know what you expected to find, but no, it’s not there.’

  ‘That’s what I expected to find. Come on,’ ordered Jimmy as he dashed back toward the central palace.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  Locklear stared daggers into Jimmy’s back as they ran across the marshalling yard.

  Jimmy and Locklear dashed up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Reaching the window overlooking the courtyard, they gasped for breath. The run to and from the stable had taken ten minutes, and the cortege was about to leave the palace. Jimmy watched closely. Carriages rolled up to the steps of the palace and pages ran forward to hold open the doors. By tradition only the royal family, by blood and marriage, would ride. All others would walk behind Arutha’s bier as a sign of respect. Princess Anita and Alicia walked down and entered the first carriage, while Carline and Laurie hurried to the second, the Duke nearly skipping he was walking so fast. He almost leaped into the carriage after Carline, rapidly pulling the curtains over the windows on his side.

  Jimmy regarded Locklear, who stood with an open expression of curiosity on his face over Laurie’s behaviour. Seeing no need to comment to the other youngster, Jimmy remained silent.

  Gardan took his place before the procession, his shoulders hung with a heavy black mantle. He signalled, and a single drummer began a slow tattoo upon a muffled drum. Without spoken order, the procession set out on the fourth beat of the drum. The soldiers moved in silent lockstep, while the carriages rolled forward. Suddenly the grey stallion bucked and an extra groom again had to hold the animal in place. Jimmy shook his head. He had an old familiar feeling: all the pieces of some odd puzzle were about to fall into place. Then slowly a smile of understanding spread across his face.

  Locklear observed his friend’s change of expression. ‘What?’

  ‘Now I know what Laurie’s been up to. I know what’s going on.’ With a friendly slap to Locklear’s shoulder, he said, ‘Come on, we’ve got a lot to do and little time to do it.’

  Jimmy led Locklear through the secret tunnel, the guttering torch sending flickering shadows dancing in every direction. Both squires were dressed for travel and carried weapons, packs, and bedrolls. ‘You sure they’ll not have someone at the exit?’ asked Locklear for the fifth time.

  Impatiently Jimmy said, ‘I told you: this is the one exit I never showed anyone, not even the Prince or Laurie.’ As if trying to explain away this transgression of omission, he added, ‘Some old habits are harder to break than others.’

  They had gone about their duties all afternoon; after the squires had all retired, they had stolen away to where they had hastily stashed their travel packs. Now it was close to midnight.

  Reaching a stone door, Jimmy pulled a lever and they both heard a click. Jimmy put out the torch and put his shoulder to the door. After several hard shoves, the protesting door moved, age having made it reluctant. They crawled through a small door – disguised as stonework – in the base of the wall beyond the Prince’s marshalling yard, on the street closest to the palace. Less than half a block up the road stood the postern gate, with its attendant sentries. Jimmy tried to push the door shut, but it refused to budge. He signalled to Locklear, and the younger boy shoved in concert. It held, then with a sudden release slammed shut with an audible crash. From up by the gate came an inquiring voice. ‘Here now, who’s out there? Stand and b
e identified.’

  Without hesitation Jimmy was off, Locklear half a step behind. Neither boy looked back to see if chase was being offered, but kept their heads down as they dashed along the cobblestones.

  Soon they were lost in the warren of streets between the Poor Quarter and the docks. Jimmy halted to gain his bearings, then pointed. ‘That way. We’ve got to hurry. The Raven leaves on the midnight tide.’

  Both boys hurried through the night. Soon they were passing shuttered buildings near the waterfront. From the docks came the sound of men shouting orders as a ship made ready to depart.

  ‘It’s pulling out,’ yelled Locklear.

  Jimmy didn’t answer, only picking up his pace. Both squires reached the end of the dock as the last line was cast off, and with desperate leaps they reached the side of the ship as it moved away from the quay. Rough hands pulled them over and in a moment they stood upon the deck.

  ‘Here now, what is this?’ came an inquiring voice, and a moment later, Aaron Cook stood before them. ‘Well, then, Jimmy the Hand, are you so anxious for a sea voyage you’d break your neck to come aboard?’

  Jimmy grinned. ‘Hello, Aaron. I need to speak to Hull.’

  The pock-faced man scowled at the squires. ‘That’s Captain Hull to any aboard the Royal Raven, Prince’s Squire or not. I’ll see if the captain has a moment.’

  Shortly the squires stood before the captain, who fixed them with a baleful expression as he studied them with his one good eye. ‘Deserting your post, eh?’

  ‘Trevor,’ Jimmy began, but as Cook scowled, he amended, ‘Captain. We need to travel to Sarth. And we saw from the ships’ list in the Port Authority you’re beginning your northward patrol tonight.’

  ‘Well now, you may think you need to travel up the coast, Jimmy the Hand, but you’ve not rank enough to come aboard my ship with no more than a by-your-leave, and you didn’t even have that. And despite the public notice – for the benefit of spies, you should know – my course is westerly, for I’ve Durbin slave runners reported lying at sea ambush for hapless Kingdom traders, and there’s always Quegan galleys nosing about. No, you’ll be ashore with the pilot once we’ve cleared the outer breakwater, unless you’ve a better reason than simply wanting free transportation.’ The former smuggler’s expression revealed that while he might feel affection for Jimmy, he’d brook no nonsense aboard his ship.

  Jimmy said, ‘If I might have a word with you in private.’

  Hull exchanged glances with Cook, then shrugged. Jimmy spent a full five minutes whispering with the old captain. Then suddenly Hull laughed, a genuinely amused sound. ‘I’ll be scuppered!’

  A moment later he approached Aaron Cook. ‘Have these lads taken below. As soon as we clear harbour, I want full sail. Make course for Sarth.’

  Cook hesitated a minute, then turned to a sailor and ordered him to take the boys below. When they were gone, and the harbour pilot over the side in his longboat, the first mate called all hands aloft and ordered all sails out and set a northern course. He cast a glance rearward where Captain Hull stood next to the helmsman, but the captain only smiled to himself.

  Jimmy and Locklear stood at rail’s edge, waiting. When the boat was ready, they boarded. Trevor Hull came to stand beside them. ‘Sure you don’t want to put back to Sarth?’

  Jimmy shook his head. ‘I’d rather not be seen arriving aboard a Royal Customs ship. Attracts too much notice. Besides, there’s a village near here where we can buy horses. There’s a good place not a day’s ride beyond there where we all camped last time. We can watch any who pass. It’ll be easier to spot them there.’

  ‘As long as they haven’t passed already.’

  ‘They only left a day before we did, and we sailed every night while they had to sleep. We’re in front of them.’

  ‘Well then, young lads, I’ll wish you the protection of Kilian, who in her kinder moments watches over sailors and other reckless sorts, and of Banath, who does the same for thieves, gamblers, and fools.’ In more serious tones, he said, ‘Take care, boys.’ Then he signalled the boat lowered.

  It was still gloomy, as the coast fog had not been pierced yet by the sun. The longboat was turned toward the beach and the rowers pulled hard. Swiftly they headed in, until the bow of the longboat scraped sand, and Jimmy and Locklear were ashore.

  The innkeeper hadn’t wished to sell his horses at first, but Jimmy’s serious attitude, his posture of authority, and the way he wore his sword, coupled with ample gold, changed his mind. By the time the sun had cleared the forest to the east of the village of Longroad, the two young men were mounted, well provisioned, and on their way up the road between Sarth and Questor’s View.

  By midday they were in place, at a narrow point in the road. To the east an upthrust of land, covered with heavy foliage, prevented anyone from passing, while to the west, the land dropped away quickly to the beach. From their vantage point, Jimmy and Locklear could see any travellers coming up the road or the beach.

  They built a small fire against the damp and settled in to wait.

  Twice in the three days that followed, they had been menaced. The first time had been by a band of unemployed bravos, mercenary guards, on their way south from Questor’s View. But that band had been discouraged by the determination of the two young men, and the probability they had nothing to steal besides the two horses. One man tried to take a horse, but Jimmy’s speed with a rapier dissuaded him. They left rather than spill blood over such trivial booty.

  The second encounter had been considerably riskier, as both youngsters had stood side by side with weapons drawn, protecting their horses from three disreputable-looking bandits. Had the road agents had more numbers, Jimmy was certain the youths would have been killed, but the men had fled at the sound of approaching riders, which turned into a small patrol from the garrison at Questor’s View.

  The soldiers had questioned Jimmy and Locklear and had accepted their tale. They were travelling as sons of a minor squire, who was due to meet with them soon at this location. The boys and their father would then continue on south to Krondor, to follow after the Prince’s funeral procession. The sergeant in charge of the patrol had wished them safe passage.

  Late in the afternoon, the fourth day after arriving, Jimmy spotted three riders coming down the beach. He watched for a long moment, then said, ‘There they are!’

  Jimmy and Locklear quickly mounted and rode down the gap in the cliff to the beach. They halted, their mounts pawing the sand, as they waited for the riders to approach.

  The three riders came into view, slowed, then approached warily. They looked tired and dirty, most likely mercenaries from their weapons and armour. All wore beards, though the two dark-haired men’s were short and newly growing. The first rider swore an oath at the sight of the two youngsters. The second shook his head in disbelief.

  The third rider edged his horse past the first two and came to halt before the boys. ‘How did you…?’

  Locklear sat with his mouth open, in stunned silence. In everything Jimmy had told him, this was the one thing the Senior Squire had not mentioned. Jimmy grinned. ‘It’s a bit of a story. We’ve a little camp up on the headland if you want to rest, though it’s by the road.’

  The man scratched at his two-week-old beard. ‘Might as well. There’s little point in travelling much more today.’

  Jimmy’s grin broadened. ‘I must say, you’re the liveliest-looking corpse I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a few.’

  Arutha returned the grin. Turning to Laurie and Roald, he said, ‘Come on, let’s rest the horses and find out how these young rogues figured us out.’

  The fire seemed to burn cheerfully as the sun disappeared over the ocean. They lay around the campfire, except Roald, who stood with a view of the road. ‘It was a lot of little things,’ said Jimmy. ‘The Princesses both seemed more worried than grief-stricken. When we were kept away from the cortege, I became suspicious.’

  Locklear added, ‘It was something I s
aid.’

  Jimmy shot Locklear a hard glance, indicating it was his story. ‘Yes, it was. He mentioned we were being kept away. Now I know why. I’d have tumbled to the bogus Duke in the carriage in a minute. Then I’d have known he was heading north to finish with Murmandamus.’

  Laurie said, ‘Which is why you were kept away.’

  Roald added, ‘Which was the whole idea.’

  Jimmy looked stung. ‘You could have trusted me.’

  Arutha looked caught halfway between amusement and irritation. ‘It wasn’t an issue of trust, Jimmy. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want you along.’ With a mock groan, he said, ‘Now I’ve two of you.’

  Locklear looked at Jimmy with an expression of concern, but Jimmy’s tone put him at ease. ‘Well, even princes have an occasional lapse of judgment. Just remember what sort of fix you’d have been in if I hadn’t sussed out that trap up at Moraelin.’

  Arutha nodded in surrender. ‘So you knew something strange was going on, then figured out Laurie and Roald were going north, but what gave away I was still alive?’

  Jimmy laughed. ‘First, the grey stallion was used in the procession, and your sorrel was missing from the stable. You never liked the grey, I remember you saying.’

  Arutha nodded. ‘He’s too fractious. What else?’

  ‘It hit me while we watched the body go past. If you were going to be buried in your favourite togs, you’d have your favourite boots on.’ He pointed to the pair the Prince wore. ‘But there were only slippers on his feet. That’s because the boots the assassin wore into the palace were covered in sewer muck and blood. Most likely whoever dressed the body went looking for another pair rather than clean the assassin’s boots and couldn’t find any, or they didn’t fit, so they just put the slippers on. When I saw that I figured it out. You didn’t have the assassin’s body burned, only the heart. Nathan must have put a spell on it to keep it fresh.’