—
BY TWO HOURS after sundown the common room was crowded with both Nicholas’s company and strangers. He had selected a table for himself and his companions nearest the hall leading to the sleeping rooms. Harry, Anthony, and Brisa still hadn’t returned, and no one had caught sight of Nakor since before they had reached the hostel. Nicholas was beginning to worry.
Twice mercenaries had approached to ask if there was room for new recruits in Nicholas’s company. He was noncommittal and said it depended on a possible contract and they should come back in a few days.
The food provided was filling and hot, if not especially tasty, and the wine was above average, which suited everyone in the company; it was a great improvement over the beans and bread they had eaten every night on the boats, along with a cold piece of salted pork. As they were eating, Harry, Anthony, and Brisa at last returned.
They sat down and Nicholas said, “What kept you so long?”
Harry smiled. “It’s a big city.”
“Did you have to see all of it in one day?” asked Amos with a grin.
Harry said, “We didn’t see a tenth, but we did find out some interesting things, or more to the point, Anthony and Brisa did.”
Anthony said, “I’ve found a man selling magic charms down by the docks. He’s a fraud, of course, and his trinkets are useless, but he did let loose with some gossip about the Overlord and his Grand Adviser.”
Nicholas leaned forward as Anthony’s voice dropped. “Praji wasn’t joking about the ban on magic. One of the things the trinket seller told me is there’s a ward on the city that alerts this Dahakon if anyone uses magic within the walls of the city. At least, that’s the rumor. He claimed a special property of the trinkets was their ability to work without alerting the Adviser.” Anthony shook his head. “Anyone want this?” he said, taking a strange-looking fetish out of his pocket. It was a man with a giant penis. “It’s supposed to make one irresistible to women.” He blushed as Brisa laughed, her hand over her mouth.
“Anthony, I must have you,” she said jokingly.
Nicholas wasn’t amused. “Put that away. What that means is you can’t use your powers to find the girls.”
“Girls?” said Harry.
“The prisoners,” said Anthony. His blush continued. “I have been able to locate Margaret and Abigail,” he said.
Nicholas knew he was stretching the truth a bit because of Harry’s interest in Margaret, but thought that was a pretty trivial consideration now. He said, “What else did you find out?”
Brisa said, “There’s something like an organization of thieves around. You’re from Krondor, so you’ve heard of the Mockers.”
Nicholas nodded.
Brisa said, “It’s something like that, but I have a feeling from what we’ve seen that it’s a lot less efficient and probably less powerful.”
“Why?” asked Nicholas.
“I’ve never seen so many armed men in a square mile in my life, not even in Freeport, and half of them belong to one clan or another or to the Overlord.”
Harry said, “She’s right, Nicky. There are soldiers everywhere, and everyone has a bodyguard or guards on his house or mercenaries. It’s like Ghuda said, it’s an armed camp here.”
Nicholas considered. Krondor had its number of private guards and mercenaries working for merchants and nobles, but most citizens went unarmed in all but the Poor Quarter or the docks at night, for the city watch and the Prince’s garrison kept the peace and kept the Mockers somewhat under control. Also, he had learned from his father that the guild of thieves liked things orderly, for any martial law crimped their business severely.
Nicholas asked, “Did you find out anything in the slave market?”
“Not enough to talk about,” said Harry. “It was difficult. If you weren’t buying, you were looked on with suspicion. One thing, the wall behind the slave market is marked off by a white line a dozen yards away from it. Did you see that?”
Nicholas said, “Calis and I wandered over that way, but I didn’t notice it.”
Harry said, “It’s a deadline.”
Nicholas nodded. He knew that meant there were archers on the walls or soldiers in the market with orders to kill anyone who crossed the line. “The Overlord doesn’t want anyone freeing the condemned,” said Nicholas.
“Or he doesn’t want unexpected visitors,” offered Brisa.
Amos said, “If you ran this city of cutthroats, would you?”
Nicholas said, “If I ran it, it would run differently.”
Amos laughed. “You’re not the first to think that before taking the job. Ask your father sometime about the deals he made with the Mockers early on in his reign.”
Nicholas asked Brisa, “Do you think you can make contact with the local thieves?”
“It might take a couple of days,” she answered. “There’s a hunted-dog look about half the people here.” She lowered her voice even more. “My guess is you’ve got a half-dozen informants and spies in this room already. There’s not a lot of trust in this city.”
Nicholas said, “Well, eat, drink, be merry….” He let the old saying go without finishing it.
—
MARGARET AWOKE WITH a start, her heart pounding. Something caused her to turn slowly toward the other bed. A figure loomed over her in the darkness of the room. Blinking, she strained to make out the figure in the gloom.
When she sat up, her sudden movement startled the figure, which pulled back. She reached for a shuttered lamp, which was kept burning low at night, and opened the shutter. Sitting on the floor next to the bed was one of the two lizard creatures. It shielded its dark eyes against the light and scuttled backward, making soft sounds.
Margaret froze, her mouth open as she drew in a gasp of fear. The creature had spoken a word, softly. It had said, “No.” But what terrified Margaret was the sound: it was nothing alien or inhuman. The voice had belonged to a human woman. The voice sounded like her own.
18
SECRETS
Nicholas looked up.
Coming across the room was the wagon driver, Tuka, and a florid-faced, puffing man of imposing girth, dressed in a riot of colors: a yellow overtunic, a plaid shirt, red trousers, a green sash, and a purple hat in the fashion of the area, with a wide brim rolled up on either side to hug the crown.
Ghuda asked, “Harry, did someone steal your clothes last night?”
Harry yawned, not being quite awake after having drunk an unusual amount of ale for him. “Looks like it,” said the Squire from Ludland. “Mine were in better taste, though.”
Ghuda and Amos refrained from comment, watching the strange pair as they approached.
“Encosi,” said Tuka, “with humility I am presenting Anward Nogosh Pata, my master’s representative in the city.”
Without leave, the man sat at the only remaining chair at Nicholas’s table and whispered, “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” responded Harry.
Nicholas waved away Harry’s question and said, “Yes. We have the girl.”
The man blew out his cheeks as he exhaled and drummed his fingers upon the table. “I’ve known Tuka for years, and while he’s no more reliable than any other driver, he’s not intelligent enough to fabricate such a wicked tale of betrayal and murder by himself.” Leaning across the table, he lowered his voice even more. “What do you mean to do? Ransom? Reward?”
Nicholas frowned. “What would you have me do?” he asked.
The man resumed his finger-drumming on the table. “I’m uncertain. If my master falls prey to some plot to create friction between the clans—many of whom have strong ties to important trading houses here and in other cities—few of those clansmen may be inclined to remember that my master was merely a dupe in some larger plot.” He made a wide gesture with his hands while he shrugged. “And truth to tell, my master would be less than pleased to be named a dupe—for all his more excellent qualities, he is not without his vanity—and the effect su
ch an appellation would have upon his trade could not be considered salubrious.”
Nicholas said, “There are matters of concern to my men and me that might have some impact upon this matter.”
“You propose?” asked Anward.
“To do nothing for a few days,” answered Nicholas. “We’ve surmised that if the Overlord’s hand is in this series of attacks and murder, the girl’s life is worthless in the palace, but if she’s the prize in a game we don’t understand, that may be the safest place in the world for her. Let me ask you something: what would your master’s reaction be to sending her back?”
“He would not be pleased, but that displeasure would be for the failure of the undertaking, and if the undertaking was doomed from the outset because of duplicity, he would be disinclined to place blame needlessly.”
“Would the girl’s father punish her?”
“Her father has many daughters, it’s true, but he values all of them. No, he wouldn’t harm her. Why do you ask?”
Thinking quickly, Nicholas said, “Just making sure I understand all the stakes of the game.”
“What of the precious gifts that accompanied the Ranjana?”
“They are all safe,” said Nicholas.
“I shall send a wagon and guards to recover my master’s wares.”
Nicholas held up his hand. “I would prefer it if you would wait a little. I don’t think anyone who saw us arrive suspected we had anything to do with all the murder upriver, but you can never be sure. If we are being watched, I don’t want to advertise that we found any treasure or the Ranjana. Let them think the girls with us were our camp followers.” When Anward looked at him suspiciously, Nicholas said, “You have my word; when the Ranjana leaves here, she takes all her gold and jewels with her.”
The factor rose, saying, “I will employ caution, but I shall set about seeking information about who is truly responsible for this misery. You will be here awhile?”
“A few days.”
Bowing in respect: “I bid you good day, Captain.”
When Tuka didn’t follow him, Ghuda said, “You got the heave-ho?”
The little wagon driver shrugged. “It was so, Sab. I am discharged from service for failing to protect my master’s cargo, but for having returned with the news of the Ranjana’s presence here in the city I am not being beaten or killed.”
Marcus said, “I take it work is hard to come by around here?”
Amos said, “It must be, for workers to put up with such treatment.”
“Very hard, Sab,” answered Tuka. He looked genuinely downcast as he added, “I may have to turn to thievery to eat.”
Nicholas couldn’t help but smile at the little man’s comic pose. “I don’t think you have the knack for it.” Tuka nodded in agreement. Nicholas went on, “Tell you what. You’ve done us some good service, so why don’t you work for us while we’re in the city. We’ll make sure you don’t starve.”
Tuka’s face lit up. “Encosi has need of a wagon driver?”
“Not so you’d notice,” said Nicholas. “But I do need someone who knows his way around this land, and we don’t know a lot of people here. What did they pay you?”
“A Serpent River copper pastoli a week and my food, and permission to sleep under the wagon.”
Nicholas frowned. “I’m not familiar with local currency.” He dug a few coins out of his pouch, one of those taken from Shingazi’s Landing. Laying them on the table, he asked, “Which is the pastoli?”
Tuka’s eyes widened at the coins. “This one, Encosi.” He pointed to the smallest copper coin in the bunch.
“What of the others?” asked Ghuda.
If Tuka thought it strange that mercenaries didn’t understand the worth of the local coins, he said nothing. “This is the stolesti,” he said, pointing to a larger copper piece. “It is being worth ten pastolis.” He went through the others, the twenty stolesti silver kathanri, and the golden drakmasti, or, simply, a drak. The rest were coins from other cities, and Tuka explained that so much alien currency was in use it was common to pay by type of coin and weight as much as by official value; most merchants had their own touchstones and no money changers as such existed. Nicholas tossed him a stolesti and said, “Go buy yourself something to eat and a clean tunic.”
The little man bowed furiously and said, “Encosi is most generous.” He hurried out of the common room.
Marcus said, “I thought the poor in the Kingdom didn’t have much, but that’s poor.”
Ghuda said, “They pay wagon drivers about a tenth of what they make in Kesh.”
Nicholas frowned. “Trade was never a strong subject of mine, but my guess is that all the fighting and disruption of trade means few jobs, and a great deal of pressure to make profit.” He shrugged. “Cheap labor.”
Ghuda nodded.
Amos said, “Which means one good thing.”
“What?” asked Nicholas.
“Bribes will go further here,” he said with a grin. “And it means we’re not simply well off with Shingazi’s treasure, we’re rich, very rich.”
Nicholas said, “That’s good, but it doesn’t get us any closer to finding the prisoners.”
“That’s true,” said Amos.
Nicholas said, “Where are Harry and Brisa? They should have been back by now.” He had sent them back into the bazaar to see if Brisa could make contact with the local thieves and beggars. “And where the hell is Nakor?”
Ghuda shrugged. “Nakor? He’ll show up. He always does.”
—
NAKOR ENTERED THE palace. A few minutes earlier, he had spotted a band of monks heading there just as he was wondering how he might get inside. Taking note of their attire, yellow and orange robes, cut short at knee and elbow, with a black sash across the shoulder, he quickly improvised. He fell in step behind the last monk, turning his rucksack around so that it looked as if he carried a bundle, with a black sash over his shoulder, and instantly he was another monk from the order of Agni—which he knew was the local name for Prandur, the fire god—and walked boldly into the palace past a pair of Red Slayers at the doors.
He glanced out of the corner of his eye at one as he passed, and compared him to Amos’s description of Murmandamus’s Black Slayers during the Riftwar. Amos, the only member of the company who had seen one, had told Nicholas and the others about them after finding the helm at Shingazi’s Landing. These Red Slayers were motionless, covered from neck to boots in red chain mail. Their helms entirely covered their heads, with two narrow eye slits. Atop the crest a dragon crouched, his wings descending to form the sides of the helm. The dragon’s eyes were either onyx or sapphires, Nakor couldn’t be certain, and he wasn’t about to take a closer look. Each guard wore a red tabard with a black circle in the center, in which a golden serpent with a red eye formed an S.
The entrance to the palace was a long passage through what Nakor assumed was a massive outer wall. Then they were under open sky and crossing an ancient bailey, to enter the central palace proper. They climbed some steps to a broad entrance-way, between high columns that held an outthrusting third story aloft. Atop that was a low battlement with defensive arrow slits. Nakor noticed that the attempt at some sort of classical style hadn’t completely abandoned the concerns of defense. On the whole, he judged the Overlord’s abode a particularly ugly place.
They marched into the great hall, where others were already assembled. Conventional soldiers lined the hall, dressed in black with the same serpent design on their tabards, as a dozen orders of clerics had gathered ahead of the Fire Monks. A hundred or so wealthy-looking men, some traders by their fashion, and the others important captains of mercenary companies, milled around the formal assembly of monks and priests.
Nakor fell a step behind the last monk of Agni as they took up their position to one side of the giant courtyard. They lined up so that Nakor was even with two guards standing before giant columns of carved marble. He glanced to the right and left, then took a step backward
, putting himself behind the two guards. He turned and smiled in a friendly fashion to a merchant who was watching him, then gestured for the man to take his place, as if he might get a better view. The man smiled his thanks and stepped forward to occupy Nakor’s former spot. Nakor ducked into the shadow of a column to observe the ceremony.
Across the room, a number of men and women entered between large curtains to the rear of a high dias; the last was an impressive figure, clearly six inches over six feet tall. He was heavily muscled but not fat, looking more on the lean side if anything. His face was long and would have been handsome if there had not been something cruel in the eyes and the set of the mouth, evident even from Nakor’s distant vantage point. There was no doubt this was the Overlord. He wore a simple purple toga, cut short at the knees, which displayed his powerful physique to good effect. He raised a gloved hand and whistled. An answering shriek sounded from high above in the vault of the hall and the flap of wings accompanied the descent of an eagle. Nakor looked at the black bird, a young golden eagle. Though young, the bird was big enough that only the strongest man could hold it long upon his wrist. Yet the Overlord bore the creature with ease.
Entering next were two women, both dressed in provocative fashion. One was blond, wearing a halter top of silk embroidered with gold thread and rubies. Her only other clothing was a sheer white skirt that hung from the hipbone, gathered up to reveal one long leg as she walked, and held in place by a giant ruby and gold pin. Her hair was pulled behind her head with a gold clasp and fell to her shoulders. She had pale skin and, Nakor assumed, blue eyes, but he couldn’t tell at this distance. She was by any standard a strikingly beautiful woman, if too young for Nakor’s taste. She moved close to the tall man’s side, but kept a pace behind.
The other was equally beautiful, though older. Her hair was black, but her skin was almost as fair as the first’s. She wore a short red vest, partially open in front, showing an ample glimpse of a high bosom. Her skirt was cut in similar fashion to the other woman’s, but black. Her jewelry was no less ornate, sapphires and gold, though her skirt clasp was set with a single emerald. She joined a black-robed man who pushed back the robe’s hood, revealing his face. He had a bald head and wore a gold ring through his nose. She took the man’s arm.
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