‘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 be 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.
T
he 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 said.’
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.’
‘I didn’t know what I was going to do with it, but thought it might come in useful. Then we had that attempt in the temple. That assassin’s dagger was no sham’ – he absently rubbed a sore side – ‘but it was not a serious wound.’
Laurie said, ‘Ha! Another inch higher and two to the right and he’d have had a real enough funeral after all.’
‘We kept things at a low boil the first night, Nathan, Gardan, Volney, Laurie, and I, while we figured out what to do,’ Arutha said. ‘I decided to play dead. Volney held up the funeral procession until the local nobles arrived, which gave me time to heal enough to ride. I wanted to slip out of the city without anyone being the wiser. If Murmandamus thinks me dead, he’ll stop looking for me. With this’ – he held out the talisman given to him by the Ishapian Abbot – ‘he’ll not find me with magic means. I’m hoping to make him act prematurely.’
Laurie said, ‘How’d you boys get here? You couldn’t have passed us along the road.’
‘I got Trevor Hull to bring us here,’ replied Jimmy.
Arutha said, ‘You told him?’
‘But only him. Not even Cook knows you’re alive.’
Roald said, ‘Still too damn many for a secret.’
Locklear said, ‘But, I mean, everyone who knows can be trusted … sir.’
‘That’s not the issue,’ said Laurie. ‘Carline and Anita know, as did Gardan, Volney, and Nathan. But even deLacy and Valdis were kept ignorant. The King won’t know until Carline tells him in private when they reach Rillanon. Only those know.’
‘What of Martin?’ asked Jimmy.
‘Laurie sent a message to him. He’ll meet us in Ylith,’ answered Arutha.
‘That’s risky,’ said Jimmy.
Laurie said, ‘No one but a few of us could understand the message. All it said was “The Northerner. Come fastest.” It was signed “Arthur.” He’ll understand no one is to know Arutha lives.’
Jimmy revealed his appreciation. ‘Only those of us here know the Northerner is the inn in Ylith where Martin wrestled with that Longly character.’
‘Who’s Arthur?’ asked Locklear.
‘His Highness,’ said Roald. ‘It’s the name he used when last he travelled.’
‘And I used it when I came to Krondor with Martin and Amos.’
Jimmy got a thoughtful look. ‘This is the second time we ride north, and it’s the second time I wish Amos Trask was with u
s.’
Arutha said, ‘Well, he is not. Let’s turn in. We’ve a long ride ahead, and I must decide what to do with you two young rogues.’
Jimmy wrapped his bedroll about him, as did the others, while Roald maintained the first watch. Then for the first time in weeks, Jimmy dropped quickly off to sleep, free of grief.
• Chapter Seven •
Mysteries
Ryath thundered into familiar skies.
Above the forests of the Kingdom she wheeled. From her came the thought, I must hunt. The dragon preferred mind-speech while flying, though she spoke aloud upon the ground.
Tomas looked back at Pug, who answered. ‘It is far to Macros’s island. Nearly a thousand miles.’
Tomas smiled. ‘We can be there more quickly than you imagine.’
‘How far can Ryath fly?’
‘Around the globe of this world without landing, though I think she’d judge there was no good reason to do so. Also, you’ve not seen a tenth of her speed.’
‘Good,’ answered Pug. ‘Then, when we’ve landed upon Sorcerer’s Isle.’
Tomas requested more forbearance from the dragon, who grudgingly agreed. Climbing high in the blue skies of Midkemia, Ryath followed Pug’s directions, over the peaks of mountains, toward the Bitter Sea. With mighty beats of her wings she climbed to where she could soar. Soon the landscape below sped away, and Pug wondered what the limits of the dragon’s speed might be. They were moving more rapidly than a running horse and seemed to be picking up speed. There was a component of magic in Ryath’s flying ability, for while the dragon appeared to soar, she was in fact increasing speed without a single beat of her wings. Faster and faster they flew. They were comfortable, owing to Tomas’s magic; he protected them from wind and cold, though Pug was nearly dizzy from exhilaration. The forests of the Far Coast gave way to the peaks of the Grey Towers and then they were speeding over the lands of the Free Cities of Natal. Next they were flying over the waters of the Bitter Sea, highlights of silver and green glittering on the deep blue, and ships plying the summer trade routes from Queg to the Free Cities looked but a child’s toys.
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