“Oh, court is it, sir? Well, it’s just the thing, mark me It adds a certain elegance to your appearance.”
“How much is it?” Arutha saw Radburn’s men walking through the busy crowd, some looking into each tavern and storefront as they passed, others hurrying on to other destinations. More followed from the smaller street, and Radburn spoke quickly to them. He set some to watching those in the street, then turned and led the rest back the way they had come.
“It’s the finest cloth made in Ran, sir,” said the seller. “It was brought at great expense from the shore of the Kingdom Sea. I couldn’t let it go for less than twenty golden sovereigns.”
Arutha blanched, and for a moment was so struck by the outrageous price he nearly forgot himself. “Twenty!” He lowered his voice as a passing member of Radburn’s company threw him a quick glance “My dear man,” he said, returning to character, “I seek to purchase a cloak, not establish an annuity for your grandchildren.” Radburn’s man turned away and disappeared into the press of the crowd. “It is rather a plain wrap, after all. I should think two sovereigns more than sufficient.”
The man looked stricken “Sir, you seek to beggar me I couldn’t think of parting with it for a sum of less than eighteen sovereigns.”
They haggled for another ten minutes, and Arutha finally departed with the cloak for the price of eight sovereigns and two silver royals. It was double the price he should have paid, but the searchers had ignored a man haggling with a street seller, and escaping detection was worth the price a hundred times over.
Arutha kept alert for signs he was being watched as he made his way along the street. Unfortunately he knew little of Krondor and had no idea where he was after the flight. He kept to the busier part of the street, staying close to larger groups, seeking to blend in.
Arutha saw a man standing at the corner, seemingly idling the night away, but clearly watching those who passed. Arutha looked around and saw a tavern on the other side of the street, marked by a brightly painted sign of a white dove. He quickly crossed the street, keeping his face turned away from the man at the corner, and approached the doorway of the tavern. As he reached for the door, a hand gripped his cloak, and Arutha spun, his sword halfway out of its scabbard. A boy of about thirteen stood there, wearing a simple, oft-patched tunic and men’s trousers cut off at the knees. He had dark hair and eyes, and his smudged face was set in a grin. “Not there, sir,” he said with a merry note in his voice.
Arutha slipped his sword back into the scabbard and fell into character. “Begone, boy. I’ve no time for beggars or panderers, even those of limited stature.”
The boy’s grin broadened “If you insist, but there are two of them in there.”
Arutha dropped his nasal accent. “Who?”
“The men who chased you from the side street.”
Arutha glanced about. The boy appeared alone. He looked into the boy’s eyes and said, “What are you talking about?”
“I saw how you acted. Quick on your feet, sir. But they’ve blanketed the area, and you’ll not be slipping by them yourself.”
Arutha leaned forward “Who are you, boy?”
With a toss of his ragged hair he said, “Name’s Jimmy I work hereabouts. I can get you out. For a fee, of course.”
“And what makes you think I wish to get out?”
“Don’t play the fool with me, like you did with the merchant, sir. You need to get clear of somebody who’s likely to pay me to show him where you are. I’ve run afoul of Radburn and his men before, so you have more of my sympathy than he’s likely to get. As long as you can bid more for your freedom than he will for your capture.”
“You know Radburn?”
Jimmy grinned. “Not so as I’d care to admit, but yes, we’ve had dealings before.”
Arutha was struck by the boy’s cool manner, not what he would have expected from the boys he knew back home. Here stood an old hand at negotiating the treacherous byways of the city. “How much?”
“Radburn will pay me twenty-five gold to find you, fifty if he especially wants your skin.”
Arutha took out his com pouch and handed it to the boy. “Over a hundred sovereigns in there, boy. Get me out of here and to the docks, and I’ll double it.”
The boy’s eyes flickered wide a moment, but he never lost his grin. “You must have offended someone with a lot of influence. Come along.”
He darted away so quickly, Arutha almost lost him in the heavy crowd. The boy moved with the ease of experience through the press, while Arutha had to struggle to keep from jostling people in the street.
Jimmy led him into an alley, several blocks away. When they were a short way down the alley, Jimmy stopped. “Better toss that cloak. Red’s not my favorite color for looking inconspicuous.” When Arutha had pitched the cloak into an empty barrel, Jimmy said, “You’ll be pointed at the docks in a moment. If someone tumbles onto us, you’re on your own. But for that other hundred gold, I’ll try to see you all the way.”
They worked their way to the end of the alley, apparently seldom used from the heavy accumulation of trash and discarded objects, packing crates, broken furniture, and nameless goods against the walls around them Jimmy pulled aside a crate, revealing a hole. “This should put us outside Radburn’s net, at least I hope so,” said Jimmy.
Arutha found he had to crouch to follow the boy through the small passage From the rank odor in the tunnel, it was clear something had crawled in here to die fairly recently. As if reading his mind, Jimmy said, “We toss a dead cat in here every few days. Keeps others from sticking their noses too far in.”
“We?” said Arutha.
Jimmy ignored the question and kept moving Soon they exited into another alley overburdened with trash. At the mouth of the alley, Jimmy motioned for Arutha to stop and wait. He hurried along the dark street, then returned at a run. “Radburn’s men. They must have known you’d head for the harbor.”
“Can we slip past them?”
“No chance. They’re as thick as lice on a beggar.” The boy took off in the opposite direction down the street they had entered from the alley. Arutha followed as Jimmy turned up another small byway. Arutha hoped he hadn’t bargained wrongly in trusting the street boy. After a few minutes of traveling, Jimmy stopped. “I know a place you can hole up awhile, until I can find some others to help get you to your ship. But it’ll cost you more than a hundred.”
“Get me to my ship before dawn, and I’ll give you whatever you ask.”
Jimmy grinned. “I can ask a lot.” He regarded Arutha for a moment longer, then with a curt nod of his head led off. Arutha followed, and they wound their way deeper into the city. The sounds of people in the streets fell off, and Arutha judged they were moving into an area less well traveled at night. The buildings around them showed they were heading into another poor area of the city, though not close to the docks as far as Arutha could tell.
Several sharp turns through dark, narrow alleys, and Arutha was completely lost. Abruptly Jimmy turned and said, “We’re there.” He pulled open a door in an otherwise blank wall and stepped through. Arutha climbed a long flight of stairs after him.
Jimmy led him down a long hall at the top of the stairs, to a door. The boy opened it and indicated Arutha should enter. Arutha took a single step, then halted as he discovered three sword points leveled at his stomach.
25
ESCAPE
The man motioned for Arutha to enter.
He sat behind a small table facing the door. Leaning forward into the light of the small lamp on the table, he said, “Please come in.” The light revealed his face was covered with pockmarks and he possessed a large hooked nose. His eyes never strayed from Arutha as the three swordsmen stepped back, allowing the Prince entrance. Arutha hesitated as he saw the bound and unconscious forms of Amos and Martin slumped against the wall. Amos groaned and stirred, but Martin remained motionless.
Arutha measured the distance between himself and the three sw
ordsmen, his hand hovering near the hilt of his rapier. Any notion of leaping back and drawing his sword vanished when he felt a dagger point pressed against the small of his back. A hand snaked around from behind and relieved him of his sword.
Jimmy then stepped around the Prince, examining the rapier as he carefully hid his dagger in the folds of his loose tunic. He grinned broadly. “I’ve seen a few of these about. It’s light enough I could use it.”
Dryly Arutha said, “Under the circumstances, it might not be inappropriate to make it my legacy to you. Use it in good health.”
The pock-faced man said, “You keep your wits about you,” as Arutha was ushered farther into the room by a swordsman. Another put away his weapon and tied Arutha’s arms behind him. He was then roughly thrust into a chair, opposite the man who had spoken, who continued, “My name is Aaron Cook, and you’ve already met Jimmy the Hand.” He indicated the boy. “These others prefer to remain anonymous at present.”
Arutha looked at the boy. “Jimmy the Hand?”
The boy executed a fair imitation of a courtly bow, and Cook said, “The finest pickpocket in Krondor and well on his way to becoming the finest thief as well, should you be inclined to believe his self-appraisal.
“Now, to matters of business. Who are you?”
Arutha related the story of being Amos’s business partner, calling himself Arthur, and Cook studied him stoically. With a sigh, he nodded, and one of the silent men stepped forward and struck Arutha across the mouth. Arutha’s head snapped back from the force of the blow, and his eyes watered. “Friend Arthur,” said Aaron Cook, shaking his head, “we can go about this interview two ways. I’d advise you not to make the choice of the difficult way. It will prove most unpleasant, and we shall know what we want in the end in any event. So please consider your answer carefully.” He stood and came around the table. “Who are you?”
Arutha began to repeat his story, and the man who struck him stepped forward again, ending his answer with another ringing blow. The man called Cook leaned down so his face was level with Arutha’s Arutha blinked to clear the tears from his eyes, and Cook said, “Friend, tell us what we ask. Now, so as not to waste time”—he pointed at Amos —“that he is the captain of your ship we concede, but you his business partner . . . I think not. That other fellow played the part of a hunter from the mountains in several taverns about town, and I think it no mummery; he has the look of one who knows mountains better than city streets, a look hard to forge.” He studied Arutha “But you you are a soldier at least, and your rich boots and fine sword mark you a gentleman. But I think there is more.” Looking into Arutha’s eyes, he said, “Now, why is Jocko Radburn so intent upon finding you?”
Arutha looked Aaron Cook squarely in the eyes. “I don’t know.”
The man who had struck Arutha began to step forward again, but Cook held up his hand. “That may be true. You’ve been something of a fool, the way you’ve been popping up here and there, hanging around the gates of the palace, playing the innocent. You are either poor spies, or poor fools, but there is no doubt you’ve aroused the interest of the Viceroy’s men, and therefore ours.”
“Who are you?”
Cook ignored the question “Jocko Radburn’s the senior officer in the Viceroy’s secret police. Despite that open, honest face on him, Radburn’s one of the most steel-nerved, immovable bastards the gods ever graced this world with. He’d happily cut his grandmother’s heart out if he thought the old girl was making free with state secrets. The fact he put in a personal appearance shows he, at the very least, judges you potentially important.
“We first learned three men were nosing about town a day or two after you arrived, and when our people heard some of Radburn’s men were keeping an eye upon you, we decided to do likewise. When they began offering small bribes for information about you three, we became especially interested. We were content to simply keep watching you, waiting until you showed your hand.
“But when Jocko and his men showed at the Sailor’s Ease, we were forced to act. We snatched those two from under Jocko’s nose, but Jocko and his bully boys came down the alley between you and us, so we hurried them away. Jimmy’s finding you was a bit of luck, for he didn’t know we were ready to bring you in.” He nodded approval to the boy. “You did right bringing him here.”
Jimmy laughed. “I was on the rooftops, watching the whole thing. I knew you wanted him in as soon as you grabbed the other two.”
One of the men swore. “You’d better not have been trying for a boost without writ from the Nightmaster, boy.”
Cook raised his hand, and the man fell silent. “It will not hurt for you to know that some here are Mockers, others are not, but we are all united in an undertaking of great importance. Mark me well, Arthur. Your only hope of leaving here alive rests upon our being satisfied you do not endanger that undertaking I spoke of. It may be Radburn’s interest in you is only coincidental to his interest in other matters. Or there may be a weaving of threads here, some pattern as yet unseen. In any event, we shall have the truth, and when we are satisfied with what you have told us, we shall set you free—perhaps even aid you and your companions—or we shall kill you. Now start at the beginning. Why did you come to Krondor?”
Arutha considered. There was little but pain to be gained by lying, yet he was not willing to tell the entire truth. That these men were not working with Guy’s men wasn’t proved. This could be a ploy, with Radburn in the next room listening to every word. He decided what part of the truth to tell. “I’m an agent for Crydee. I came to speak to Prince Erland and Lord Dulanic in person, to ask for aid against a coming Tsurani offensive. When we learned Guy du Bas-Tyra was in possession of the city, we decided to gauge the temper of things before committing ourselves to a course of action.”
Cook listened closely, then said, “Why should an emissary of Crydee slip into the city? Why not come in with banners flying and receive a state welcome?”
“Because Black Guy’d just as soon toss him into a cell as not, you stupid bastard.”
Cook’s head snapped around: Amos was sitting up against the wall, groggily shaking his head. “I think you busted my skull, Cook.”
Aaron Cook looked hard at Amos. “You know me?”
“Aye, you wooden-headed sea rat, I know you. I know you well enough to know we’re not speaking another word until you go fetch Trevor Hull.”
Aaron Cook rose from the table, an uncertain expression on his face. He motioned to one of the men by the door, who also looked discomforted by Amos’s words. The man nodded to Cook and left the room. Minutes later he returned, followed by another man, tall, with a shock of grey hair, but still powerful looking. A ragged scar ran from his forehead through his right eye, which was milky white, and down his cheek. He took a long look at Amos, then laughed aloud and pointed at the captives. “Untie them.”
Amos was lifted by two men, then untied. As his ropes were loosened, he said, “I thought they’d hung you years ago, Trevor.”
The man clapped Amos on the back. “And I you, Amos.”
Cook looked questioningly at the new arrival, while Arutha was untied and Martin revived with a cup of water thrown in his face. The man called Trevor Hull looked at Cook and said, “Have your wits fled, man? He’s grown a beard and cut his famous flowing locks—lost some on top and put on a few pounds as well—but he’s still Amos Trask.”
Cook studied Amos a moment longer, then his eyes widened. “Captain Trenchard?”
Amos nodded, and Arutha looked on in astonishment. Even in far Crydee they had heard of Trenchard the Pirate, the Dagger of the Sea. He’d had a short career, but a famous one. It was reputed even Quegan war galleys had turned and fled at sight of Trenchard’s fleet, and there wasn’t a town along the coasts of the Bitter Sea that did not fear his marauders.
Aaron Cook extended his hand. “Sorry, Captain. It’s been so many years since we last met. We couldn’t be certain you weren’t part of some plot of Radburn’s to loc
ate us.”
“Who are you?” asked Arutha.
“All in good time,” answered Hull. “Come.”
One of the men helped the still-groggy Martin to his feet, and Cook and Hull led them to a more comfortable room, with chairs enough for all. When all were sitting, Amos said, “This old rogue is Trevor Hull, Captain White-eye, master of the Red Raven.”
Hull shook his head sadly. “No longer, Amos. Burned off of Elarial she was, three years ago, by imperial Keshian cutters. My mate Cook here and a few of my boys got to shore with me, but most of the crew went down with the Red Raven. We made our way back to Durbin, but things are changing, what with the wars and all. Came to Krondor a year ago and have been working here since.”
“Working? You, Trevor?”
The man smiled, his scar wrinkling, as he said, “Smuggling, in fact. That’s what brought us together with the Mockers. Not much can happen in Krondor along those lines without the Upright Man’s permission.
“When the Viceroy first came to Krondor, we started running up against Jocko Radburn and his secret police. He’s been a thorn in our side from the first. This business of guards sneaking about dressed as common folk, there’s just no honor in it.”
Amos muttered, “I knew I should have cut his throat when I had the chance. Next time I won’t be so damned civilized.”
“Slowing down a bit, Amos? Well, a week ago we got word from the Upright Man he had a precious cargo to leave the city. We’ve had to bide our time until the right ship was ready. Radburn’s very anxious to find that cargo before it leaves Krondor. So, you see, it’s a most delicate situation, for we can’t ship it until the blockade’s lifted, or we find a blockade captain we can bribe. When we first caught wind you three were asking questions, we thought it might be some grand plot of Jocko’s to find that cargo. Now we’ve cleared the air, I’d like to hear the answer to Cook’s question explained. Why should an emissary from Crydee fear discovery by the Viceroy’s men?”
Magician (10th Aniversary Edition) Page 63