A Darkness at Sethanon

by Raymond Feist

  THREE

  MURDER

  Armed men stood ready.

  Krondor was still celebrating, for Arutha had proclaimed a second day of festival, with the weak explanation that as there were two sons, there should be two days of Presentation. The announcement had been greeted with enthusiasm by all in the city save the palace staff, but Master of Ceremonies deLacy had quickly gotten things under control. Now, with the celebrants still crowding inns and alehouses, as the festive mood of the day before seemed to increase, the passing of many men—seemingly off duty, not acknowledging one another—was scarcely noticed. But by midnight they had gathered in five locations: the common room of the Rainbow Parrot Inn, three widely scattered warehouses controlled by the Mockers, and aboard the Royal Raven.

  At a prearranged signal, the incorrect ringing of the time by the city watch, the five companies would begin to make their way toward the stronghold of the brotherhood of assassins.

  Arutha led the company assembling at the Rainbow Parrot. Trevor Hull and Aaron Cook commanded the seamen and soldiers entering the sewers by boats. Jimmy, Gardan, and Captain Valdis would lead the companies hiding in the old warehouses through the streets of the Poor Quarter.

  Jimmy glanced around as the last soldiers slipped quietly through the narrowly opened doors of the warehouse. The Mockers’ storage house for stolen goods was now thoroughly crowded. He returned his attention to the single window, through which he observed the street that led straight to the Nighthawks’ stronghold. Roald consulted an hourglass he had turned when the last hour had been run by the city watch. Soldiers listened by the door of the warehouse. Jimmy again glanced at the assembled company. Laurie, who had unexpectedly appeared with Roald an hour before, gave Jimmy a nervous smile. “It’s more comfortable than the caves below Moraelin.”

  Jimmy returned a half-smile to the uninvited participant in the night’s raid. “Right.” He knew the singer turned noble was laughing off the worry they all felt. They were ill prepared in many ways and had no sense of how many servants of Murmandamus they faced. But the appearance of the false Prince had heralded a new round of assaults by the moredhel’s agents and Arutha had been emphatic about the need for speed. It had been Arutha’s decision to assemble his raiders quickly and attack the Nighthawks before another dawn came to Krondor. Jimmy had urged more time to scout the area, but the Prince had remained intractable. Jimmy had made the mistake of confiding to Arutha how close he had come to being discovered. Also, Nathan reported the impostor now dead, and Arutha judged they had no way of knowing if he had accomplices in the palace, or his compatriots other means of learning of his success or failure. They ran the risk of discovering an ambush or, worse yet, an empty nest. Jimmy understood the Prince’s impatience, but still wished for one more scouting trip. They couldn’t even be certain they’d blocked all avenues of escape.

  They had sought to increase their chances of success by sending large amounts of ale and wine into the city, “gifts” from the Prince to the citizens. They were aided by the Mockers, who diverted a disproportionate number of barrels and casks into the Poor Quarter, especially Fish Town. The honest population of Fish Town—however small a number that might be, thought Jimmy ruefully—would be happily in its collective cups by now. Then someone said, “Watch bell’s ringing.”

  Roald glanced at the glass. There was still a quarter hour’s sand in it. “That’s the signal.”

  Jimmy was first through the door, leading the way. His company of seasoned soldiers would reach the Nighthawks’ lair first. Jimmy was the only one who had even a glimpse of the interior of the building, so he volunteered to flush them out. Gardan and Valdis’s companies would be in close support, flooding the streets surrounding the target building with soldiers in the Prince’s tabards as Jimmy’s men assaulted the stronghold. The companies under Arutha and Trevor Hull had already entered the sewers through the basement trapdoor in the Rainbow Parrot and the smugglers’ tunnel at the docks. They were already closing in below the Nighthawks and would be responsible for blocking any escape routes in the sewers the assassins would likely take.

  Soldiers fanned out to either side, hugging the shadows as they moved quickly down the narrow street. The orders had called for stealth if possible, but with this many armed men moving at once, speed was more important. And the orders had been to attack at once should they be spotted. Jimmy scouted about after reaching the intersection closest to the Nighthawks’ building and discovered no guards in sight. He waved toward two narrow side streets, indicating the need to block them, and soldiers hurried to comply. When they were in position, Jimmy moved toward the entrance of the building. The last twenty yards to the door were the trickiest, for there was little cover in sight. Jimmy knew the Nighthawks probably kept the area before the door free of concealing debris against the possibility of a night such as this. He also knew there was likely at least one lookout in the second floor corner room overlooking the two streets leading to the intersection where nestled the building. A distant sound of metal on stone echoed from the other approach to the building, and Jimmy knew Gardan’s men were also approaching, just as Valdis’s company would be coming up behind Jimmy’s. He saw movement in the second story window and froze a moment. He had no idea if he had been spotted, but knew if he had, someone would be out quickly to investigate unless he could allay suspicions. He staggered away from the wall a moment, then fell forward, arms outstretched to support himself, another drunk vomiting excess wine from a tormented stomach. Turning his head, he knew Roald was only a short distance behind in the gloom. Between loud retching noises, he softly said, “Get ready.”

  After a moment he resumed a staggering walk toward the corner building. He paused once more, then continued on. The entire way, he sang a simple ditty, as if to himself, hoping he passed for a late celebrant on his way home. Nearing the entrance of the building, he staggered away, as if to turn the corner to the next street, then jumped to the wall next to the door. Jimmy held his breath and listened. A muffled sound, a if someone spoke, could be discerned. There seemed no tone of alarm. Jimmy nodded, then staggered out, a short way down the connecting street to where Gardan’s company waited. He leaned against the wall and feigned being sick again, then yelled something mindless and happy. He hoped that yell would momentarily distract the lookout.

  A dozen men quickly came up the street, carrying a light ram, and positioned themselves, while four bowmen nocked arrows behind them. They had a direct line of fire into the windows on the second floor as well as the entrance to the building. Jimmy staggered back toward the building, then when he reached a point below the window, he could see an inquisitive head stick out to follow his progress. The sentry had watched his performance and had not noticed the approaching raiders. Jimmy hoped Roald knew what to do.

  An arrow sped through the night, showing the mercenary had seized the moment. If there was a second lookout above, they lost nothing by killing the first, but if not, they gained additional moments of surprise. The lookout seemed to lean farther out, as if attempting to follow Jimmy’s movement along the wall. He kept coming out the window, until he fell into the street a few feet behind the youngster. Jimmy ignored the body. One of Gardan’s men would be cutting the man’s heart out soon enough.

  Jimmy reached the door, pulled his rapier, and signaled. The six men with the ram, a beam with a fire-hardened end, stepped forward. They quietly rested the end against the door, pulled back, took three measuring swings, then on the fourth crashed the ram against the door. The door had been bolted, not barred, and exploded inward, sending splinters flying from around the lock plate and men scrambling for weapons. Before the men who held the ram could let it fall and draw weapons, a flight of arrows sped past them. Roald and his men were through the door as the ram struck the stones and bounced.

  The sounds of fighting, screams, and oaths filled the room as other voices shouted questions from other parts of the building. Jimmy took in the layout of the room with a single gl
ance and swore in frustration. He spun to confront the sergeant leading the second company. “They’ve opened doors to buildings on the other side of the walls behind this one. There’re more rooms there!” He pointed to two doors through which questioning shouts had issued. The sergeant led his detachment off at once, splitting his squad and sending men through both doors. Another sergeant led his group up the stairs, while Roald and Laurie’s men overwhelmed the few assassins in the first room and began searching for trapdoors in the floor.

  Jimmy ran to the door that he was certain led to the room above the sewer. He kicked open the door and found a dead Nighthawk and Arutha’s men coming up through the trap. There was a second door out of the room and Jimmy thought he saw someone duck around a corner. Jimmy followed after, shouting for someone to follow him, and turned the corner. He dodged to one side, but no expected ambush remained. The last time they had fought the Nighthawks, Arutha’s raiders had found the assassins determined to die rather than be captured. This time they seemed more determined to flee.

  Jimmy ran down the corridor, a half-dozen soldiers at his heels. He pushed open a side door and found three dead Nighthawks on the floor of a room behind the first they had entered. Already soldiers prepared torches. Arutha’s orders had been specific. All the dead were to have their hearts cut from their bodies and burned. No Black Slayers would rise from the grave this night to kill for Murmandamus.

  Jimmy shouted, “Did someone run by here?”

  One soldier looked up. “Didn’t see anyone, Squire, but we were busy up to a moment ago.”

  Jimmy nodded once and ran down the hall. Rounding a corner, he discovered a hand-to-hand struggle under way in a connecting corridor. He dodged between guardsmen who were quickly overwhelming the assassins and ran toward another door. It was not entirely closed, as if someone had slammed it behind him but not stopped to see if it was shut. Jimmy shoved it wide and stepped into a broad alley. And across from him were three open and unguarded doors. Jimmy felt his heart sink. He turned to discover Arutha and Gardan behind him. Arutha cursed in frustration. What had once been a large burned-out building had been replaced by several smaller ones, and where a solid wall had stood, now doors invited passage. And not one of Arutha’s soldiers had arrived in time to prevent anyone from fleeing by this route. “Did anyone escape this way?” asked the Prince.

  “I don’t know,” answered Jimmy. “One, I think, through one of those doors.”

  A guard turned to Gardan and asked, “Shall we pursue, Marshal?”

  Arutha turned back into the house as shouts of inquiry came from nearby buildings, from citizens of Fish Town awakened by the fighting. “Don’t bother,” said the Prince flatly. “As certain as the sunrise, there are doors to other streets in those homes. We’ve failed this night.”

  Gardan shook his head. “If anyone was already there, they might have bolted as soon as they heard us attack.”

  Other guards came up the narrow alley, many with bloodied clothing. One ran to the Prince. “We think two escaped down another side street, Highness.”

  Arutha pushed past the man and reentered the building. Reaching the main room, he found Valdis overseeing the guards as they conducted the grisly work of ensuring no undead assassins rose again. Grimly the men cut deeply into the chest of each dead man and removed his heart. The hearts were burned at once.

  A breathless sailor appeared and said, “Your Highness, Captain Hull says you should come quick.”

  Arutha, Jimmy, and Gardan left the room as Roald and Laurie came into view, weapons still in hand. Arutha regarded his blood-spattered brother-in-law and said, “What are you doing here?”

  “I just came along to keep an eye on things,” he answered. Roald looked sheepishly at the Prince as Laurie added, “He never could lie with a straight face. As soon as he asked me to go gambling, I knew something was up.”

  Arutha waved away further comment and followed the sailor to the room leading to the sewer, and down the ladder, the others coming after him. They moved down a tunnel to where Hull and his men waited in their boats. Hull motioned for Arutha to board, and he and Gardan entered one boat, Jimmy, Roald, and Laurie another.

  They were rowed to a large convergence of six channels. A boat was tethered to a mooring ring in the stone, and from a trap in the ceiling above hung a rope ladder. “We stopped three boats of them coming out, but this one got past. When we reached here, they had all escaped.”

  “How many?” said the Prince.

  “Maybe a half dozen,” answered Hull.

  Arutha swore again. “We lost maybe two or three down a side street and now we know this lot got away. We may have as many as a dozen Nighthawks loose in the city.”

  He paused a moment, then looked at Gardan, his eyes narrowing in controlled anger as he said, “Krondor is now under martial law. Seal the city.”

  —

  For the second time in four years, Krondor endured martial law. When Anita had escaped from her captivity in her father’s palace and Jocko Radburn, Guy du Bas-Tyra’s captain of secret police, had sought her out, the city had been sealed. Now the Princess’s husband searched out the city for possible assassins. The reasons might be different, but the effects on the populace were the same. And coming on the heels of celebration, martial law was a double bitter draught for the people to swallow.

  Within hours of the order of martial law being given, the merchants began to troop to the palace to lodge their complaints. First came the ship brokers, whose commerce was the first disrupted as their vessels were held in port or denied entrance to the harbor. Trevor Hull led the squadron assigned to blockade duty, since the former smuggler knew every trick used to run a blockade. Twice ships attempted to leave and both times they were intercepted and boarded, their captains arrested and their crews confined to ship. In both cases, it was quickly determined that the motive had been profit and not escape from Arutha’s retribution. Still, since it was not known who they were searching for, any man arrested was kept in the city jail, the palace dungeon, or the prison barracks.

  Soon the ship brokers were followed by the freight haulers; then the millers, when farmers were kept out of the city; then others, each with a reasonable request to have the quarantine of the city lifted for just his special case. All were denied.

  Kingdom law was based upon the concept of the Great Freedom, the common law. Each man freely accepted service to his master, except the occasional criminal condemned to slavery or bondsman serving his indenture. Nobles received the benefits of rank in exchange for protecting those under their rule, and the network of vassalage rose from common farmer paying rent to his squire or baron, who paid taxes to his earl. In turn, the earl served his duke, who answered to the crown. But when the rights of free men were abused, those free men were quick to voice their displeasure. There were too many enemies within and without the boundaries of the Kingdom for an abusive noble to keep his position overly long. Raiding pirates from the Sunset Islands, Quegan privateers, goblin bands, and, always, the Brotherhood of the Dark Path—the dark elves—demanded some internal stability in the Kingdom. Only once in its history had the populace borne oppression without open protest, under the rule of mad King Rodric, Lyam’s predecessor, for the ultimate recourse to grievance was the crown. Under Rodric, lese majesty had been reinstated as a capital crime and men could not express their grievances publicly. Lyam had again struck that offense from the laws of the land; as long as treason was not espoused, men were free to speak their minds. And the free men of Krondor spoke their displeasure loudly.

  Krondor became a city in turmoil, her stability a thing of the past. For the first few days of martial law, there had been grumbling, but as the seal on the city entered its second week, shortages became commonplace. Prices rose as demand exceeded supply. When the first alehouse near the docks ran out of ale, a full-scale riot ensued. Arutha ordered curfew.

  Armed squads of the Royal Household Guard patrolled the streets alongside the normal city watch.
Agents of both the Chancellor and the Upright Man eavesdropped on conversations, listening for hints to where the assassins lay.

  And free men protested.

  Jimmy hurried down the hall toward the Prince’s private chambers. He had been sent to carry messages to the commander of the city watch and was returning with the commander at his side. Arutha had become a man driven by his need to find the hidden assassins. He had put aside all other matters. The daily business of the Principality had slowed, then had finally come to a halt, while Arutha searched for the Nighthawks.

  Jimmy knocked upon the door to the Prince’s chamber; he and the commander of the watch were admitted. Jimmy went to stand next to Laurie and Duchess Carline while the commander came to attention before the Prince. Gardan, Captain Valdis, and Earl Volney were arrayed behind the Prince’s chair. Arutha looked up at the commander. “Commander Bayne? I sent you orders; I didn’t request your presence.”

  The commander, a greying veteran who had begun service thirty years before, said, “Highness, I read your orders. I came back with the squire to confirm them.”

  “They are correct as written, Commander. Now, is there anything else?”

  Commander Bayne flushed, his anger apparent as he bit off each word. “Yes, Highness. Have you lost your bloody mind?” Everyone in the room was stunned by the outburst. Before Gardan or Volney could censure the commander’s remarks, he continued, “This order as written means I’ll be putting more than a thousand more men in the lockup. In the first place—”

  “Commander!” snapped Volney, recovering from his surprise.

  Ignoring the stout Earl, the commander plunged forward with his complaint. “In the first place, this business of arresting anyone ‘not commonly or well known to at least three citizens of good standing’ means every sailor in Krondor for the first time, traveler, vagabond, minstrel, drunk, beggar, whore, gambler, and just plain stranger are to be whisked away without hearing before a magistrate, in violation of the common law. Second, I don’t have the men to do the job properly. Third, I don’t have enough cells for all those who are to be picked up and questioned, not even enough for those who will stay on due to unsatisfactory answers. Hell, I can barely find room for the ones who are already behind bars. And last, the whole thing stinks to high heaven. Man, are you daft? You’ll have open rebellion in the city within two weeks. Even that bastard Radburn never tried anything like this.”