Prince of the Blood, the King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  Why? asked James.

  Because she has only the support of the traditionalists among the truebloods, and her brother has widespread support among the military, except for the Order of Imperial Charioteers. Awari looks to have the upper hand, so there’s no need for him to ferment trouble between the Isles and Kesh.

  James sat back on the pillows, Gamina resting her head on his chest. He thought, Our intelligence doesn’t give me any reason to think the Princess would be behind any such attacks.

  I know, said Locklear. There’s more here than meets the eye. I will try to find out more while I’m … with the Princess.

  Trying to send a note of mockery, James said, Don’t enjoy yourself too much in the search.

  Locklear bid them good night and Gamina sighed in audible relief when the contact was broken. The effort she spent on connecting the various minds had proven troublesome for her after a while. Fatigue was the price she paid and with all the formal events she was expected to attend, she found herself more and more depleted as the days wore on.

  James said, ‘I think tomorrow you could do with some rest, my love. These … dreams have been troubling you too much of late. I’ll make excuses to the various Keshian nobles and why don’t you see to a day of massage and rest.’

  She snuggled close to her husband and said, ‘That would be nice,’ but silently she said, I will not be able to relax until we’re back on Kingdom soil, my love. This place reeks of plots and murder.

  Yes, agreed James. That it does.

  • CHAPTER SIXTEEN •

  Stalking

  BORRIC WATCHED THE FIREWORKS.

  From the open front of the inn, he, Ghuda, and Nakor had a fairly good field of view, as most of the crowd was on the other side of the plaza, which opened on the vast Imperial amphitheatre. Colourful displays of fireworks filled the night sky, to the astonishment of the crowd. Ghuda was lost in his own dark thoughts and Nakor watched the show with the rapt attention and open delight of a child. Borric had to admit it was far and away the most impressive he had seen, far surpassing even the best the King’s Master of Ceremonies had to offer in Rillanon.

  Suli appeared and slid onto the bench next to Borric, picking up the cup of ale waiting for him. One thing the boy could do better than any of them was get information; he might be a poor thief, but Suli was an exceptional beggar, which meant he was halfway to being a rumourmonger.

  ‘There is something strange happening, master,’ he whispered.

  At this Ghuda’s attention was caught. The mercenary had been in a foul mood since the abortive attempt to gain the help of the local thieves. He was now convinced that two groups, the Imperial Guards and the thieves, were actively searching for them, and their lives would be measured in minutes, hours at best. He had resigned himself to dying without seeing a single copper of the money Borric had promised him, let alone having the opportunity to enjoy spending it.

  ‘What’s happening?’ he asked.

  ‘There are many important people coming and going in the palace tonight, beyond what is normal for even festival times. And men on horseback, wearing the badges of post riders, hasten to and from the upper city. Many guards race from one place to another, while others do nothing. It’s as if something big is happening, like a war or revolt or sudden disease. But there’s no hint of what it might be from the places you would hear of such a thing, the caravan drivers and boatmen, there is no talk of trouble in the inns and whorehouses. And there are the very odd comings and goings of servants in the palace.’

  Something struck Borric. ‘What do you mean by “odd comings and goings of servants in the palace”?’

  Suli shrugged. ‘As best as I can understand it, master, the servants who are not trueblood are gone from the palace after the evening meal, usually before midnight. But for some reason many are heading back into the palace from the Lower City. And fires can be seen in the cook-buildings, as if a great deal of food is being prepared for many hundreds of people. Those who would be cooking the morning meal would not usually undertake to do so for another seven hours.’

  Borric considered this in light of what he had been taught about Keshian politics, which while not extensive still contained one fact which fit in. ‘There are several hundred members of the Gallery of Lords and Masters in the city. Those not true-blood are being called to an emergency council. The food is to keep them from getting hungry during deliberations. With their retinue, many thousands of people are upon the plateau who normally wouldn’t be there at this hour.’ He thought about what this might mean. ‘How do they enter this upper city? Up that long road?’

  Suli shrugged. ‘I can find out.’ He slipped out of his seat and headed back into the plaza, which was filling up with citizens now that the festivities were over. Usually, most shops would be closed by this hour, just two hours before midnight, but the presence of the throng of celebrants had caused many of the businesses besides ale shops, wine sellers, inns, and brothels to remain open. Borric found it a little odd. The crowd was the match of anything he had ever seen in Krondor at high noon, yet it was four hours after sundown.

  Ghuda said, ‘What insanity are you thinking of now, Madman?’

  Borric said, ‘It depends on what Suli discovers. I’ll tell you when he returns. Just keep an eye open for any of those thugs we lost in the alley last night.’

  Ghuda said. ‘Knowing the Imperial Guards, any of the people in that brothel who survived the raid are probably in cells right now while the city watch commander decides what to charge them with so he can sell them on the slave block. Imperial justice is fair: it punishes everyone equally, regardless of guilt or innocence.’

  Time seemed to drag for the twenty minutes Suli was gone. When he at last returned, Suli looked puzzled. ‘It’s odd, master, but it seems every entrance to the upper city is open, so that those who need to return may do so by the quickest route.’

  Borric’s eyes narrowed. ‘That many entrances? What about guards?’

  Suli shrugged. ‘There weren’t any at the four or five entrances I saw, master.’

  Borric rose and put on the black leather gloves that were part of his disguise. Overnight he had undergone his third metamorphosis in the last week, thanks to Nakor’s bag and what was left of the money made from selling the Imperial horses. Now his short white hair was once again dark, a brown with hints of red, and he wore black armour and a black cloak. At casual glance he looked like an Imperial Guard of the Inner Legion. Upon closer examination, he would be another nameless mercenary, in the city for the celebration. Suli wore the same desertman’s garb and Nakor had put on a blue robe, which was slightly less faded and stained than the two he had worn before.

  Ghuda had resisted any attempt to get him to change his armour and clothing, counting it as useless in the face of certain destruction. He had bought a new red tunic more to halt Borric’s nagging than out of any real belief it would help them avoid eventual capture by either the thieves or the Imperial Guards looking for Borric.

  When they were all standing, Borric turned and made his way across the plaza. Wending their way through the crowd, they reached the boulevard, which was still roped off and guarded to prevent the denizens of the lower city from entering the street, which would again be used the next day for the morning procession. Borric peered across the now empty boulevard and saw dozens of buildings with lights burning. Many had their doors open wide. A man hurried across the street, and a guardsman moved to intercept him. They spoke briefly and then he waved the man on. The man continued toward a door which he entered.

  Suli said, ‘Those buildings built into the face of the plateau are actually part of the palace itself, groups of apartments housing the lowest of the trueblood, but still trueblood. And many of those apartments have tunnels up to the higher levels.’

  Borric glanced around, seeing several more guards stopping those attempting to cross the street. ‘There’s a little too much activity around this street. Let’s find another way.’
<
br />   As Ghuda followed the Prince he said, ‘Another way where?’

  ‘You’ll see,’ answered Borric.

  ‘That’s what I was afraid you would say,’ Ghuda answered.

  Borric followed the edge of the boulevard as it bordered the gigantic plateau that put this quarter of the city into dusk a few hours after noon. Where another large street intersected, Borric saw what he was looking for. ‘There!’ he said, indicating with a motion of his head.

  ‘What?’ said Ghuda.

  ‘Over in the far corner, warrior,’ answered Nakor. ‘Can you not see?’

  In the far corner, a large open passageway into the plateau could be seen, with no guards in sight but with several servants hurrying through. Borric glanced in both directions, and ducked under the rope. He hurried across the street, expecting someone to shout, but his dark armour must have convinced the other soldiers a half-block away that he was one of them. His companions were only a step behind, so it looked as if he escorted them.

  Entering the large doorway, they saw a ramp leading upward into the dark, with torches spaced along the walls every hundred feet or so. Ghuda said, ‘Now what are we doing?’

  ‘We are walking into the palace,’ answered the Prince.

  ‘And how do we do that?’ asked Ghuda.

  ‘I feel like an idiot for not thinking of this sooner. Just follow me and whatever else you do, look as if you know exactly where we’re going. One thing I know about is palaces and their servants. Servants don’t want to know anything. That includes those guards put on duty throughout.’

  He glanced in a side passage about a storey above where they entered and saw nothing. ‘When you are where you don’t belong, you gawk about, looking this way and that, and you stand with shoulders round, and to anyone who does belong, you look out of place. If you walk with eyes forward, erect, and purposefully, servants and guards assume you know where you are going. They are not about to stop you and interrogate you, for fear of their instinct about you being correct; they don’t want to be punished for interfering with someone who is where he is supposed to be.

  ‘It’s officers and lower-level officials you have to be cautious of. The officers are likely to halt anyone they don’t recognize; though with the influx of several thousand strangers, that’s unlikely. What could get us caught would be a minor official, full of himself, who is anxious to prove he’s somebody important.’

  Ghuda said, ‘Sounds good, Madman. But then so did your idea about contacting the thieves.’

  Borric halted. ‘Look, I’m here, and if you’re so fearful of your life, now, after all we’ve been through, why don’t you head back?’

  Ghuda seemed to think upon it for only an instant. ‘I’ve got both the Imperial Inner Legion and the thieves of Kesh looking to put me in a very deep hole, thanks to you, Madman. I’m as good as a walking corpse. So, I can go back and wait for someone to recognize me, or get caught here. But there’s always the chance the impossible is happening and you’re finally doing something right, in which case I might survive and get my money. That’s why I’m still here.’

  Borric glanced back along the tunnel as the echo of distant footfalls came toward them; ‘Suli? Do you want to leave now?’

  The boy was frightened, but shook his head no. ‘You are my master and I am your servant. I will go with you.’

  Borric put his hand upon the boy’s shoulder a moment, then looked at Nakor. ‘And what about you, wizard?’

  Nakor’s grin widened. ‘Fun.’

  Ghuda looked heavenward and mouthed the word ‘fun,’ but said nothing aloud as Borric signalled they should continue up the passage.

  Borric had never seen anything to compare with the palace of the Empress. As big as a large town, the traffic in the broad corridors was not that much less than a busy city boulevard on trading day. The hurrying stream of people down nearly every corridor they passed helped them avoid detection. So far, Borric’s assertion that if they but looked the part of people who belonged there no one would challenge them had proven correct.

  The problem proved to be that none of them had a hint as to where they were going. To ask directions was to risk discovery, for anyone who was there by rights would certainly know where he was bound.

  They had been in the palace over an hour now. It was getting close to midnight and while the Keshian business day had ended only a couple of hours earlier, it was well past the time when most honest citizens were in bed.

  Borric led them toward an area which seemed less congested, then down a side passage toward what appeared to be private quarters. Expecting any moment to be challenged, he was relieved when they turned into a small garden, presently deserted. Ghuda knelt at the edge of a large fountain and drank. Sighing, he looked up and said, ‘What now?’

  Borric sat down on the edge of the fountain and said, ‘I think I need to scout around, but not until things have quieted down a little.’ He removed his cloak and his leather armour, saying, ‘And if I’m going to move around the way I want, this is going to have to stay here.’ He glanced around the garden, noting a stand of deep shrubs and ferns which bordered one wall. ‘If you hide over there, you’ll only be noticed if someone comes looking for you.’

  Ghuda was about to reply when a gong reverberated in the distance. ‘What was that?’

  Within a few seconds, another sounded, then another. Suddenly gongs were ringing close by and the sound of people running down the hall could be heard. Grabbing his armour, Borric raced for the hedge and half-dove into it. Hunkering down with his companions, he said, ‘Damn! I wonder if they’re looking for us?’

  Peering through the sheltering hedge, Ghuda said, ‘I don’t know, but if they start combing this little patch, we’re found, there’s only that one exit.’

  Borric nodded. ‘We’ll wait.’

  Locklear sensed movement before he heard anything. He sat up and his eyes sought out some hint of what had brought him out of his doze. Princess Sojiana lay sleeping soundly next to him. Their lovemaking had been passionate and protracted; in the Princess Locklear had finally met his match in a lover, and she lay motionless.

  Then he saw it, a dark shape in the gloom. ‘Who’s there?’ he asked, not keeping his voice down. The Princess stirred then awakened.

  From out of the murk shapes appeared. Locklear moved quickly, knowing something was wrong. He swung his legs over the side of the huge bed and as his feet touched the stone floor, a figure loomed up out of the dark. Locklear’s sword lay atop his clothing, in a pile only three feet away, but before he could take a single step, a massive fist slammed into the side of his head.

  His senses reeling, Locklear went to his knees, clutching the bedcovers as the Princess sat up and shouted, ‘What is this?’

  As Locklear tried to stand, another blow sent him crashing to the floor. As he struggled to keep his wits about him, someone lit a lamp. Five men dressed in the black of the Inner Legion stood ringing the Princess’s bed. Sojiana screamed, ‘Guards! To me!’

  In concert, Locklear heard her voice stop with a gurgling, choking sound and a boot slammed into the side of his head. The world turned upside down and the last sight Locklear saw was the dark face of General Beruck, and the last sound he heard was the General saying, ‘Take him.’

  Erland and Sharana both came awake instantly when the gongs began to ring. They hadn’t really been asleep, but rather were lost in a soft, warm doze that came quickly after their love-making. Despite her soft appearance, the girl was young, healthy, and fit, and challenged Erland, leaving him exhausted when they were done. But it was a wonderful exhaustion and he could not imagine anything he would wish for more than to have it last for a very long time.

  But her reaction to the sound of the gongs banished that mood in an instant. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  Sharana leaped out of the bed, the servants drawing aside the curtains for her, and said, ‘Court dress!’

  As Erland fumbled to recover his own clothing, the servants had
the Princess’s kilt and vest for her in moments. As she fastened the clasp which bound her kilt, she said, ‘It’s an alarm. It’s a command to seal the upper city. It means that something is very wrong.’

  Erland hurriedly finished dressing, and when he was done, they both left the garden and entered his quarters. A mixed company of trueblood court guards and men in the black of the Inner Legions waited for her. They bowed and the officer in command said, ‘Your Highness. Your servants informed us you were here when we called at your quarters. The Empress commands us to bring you to her.’

  Sharana nodded, and as Erland moved to come with her, one of the black-armoured legionaries said, ‘We have no orders regarding this one, Highness.’

  Sharana spun and almost spat as she spoke. ‘This one!’ Pointing at Erland she said, ‘He is the Heir to the throne of the Isles! He is royalty!’ Her voice was powerful, commanding, and her face flushed with rage. She almost screamed at the man when she shouted, ‘You will address him as you would my uncle, for he is Awari’s equal in rank! That is my command!’

  Erland was astonished at the anger in the girl’s reaction to the slight, and the ferocity with which she expressed it. He half-expected her to order the man to abase himself, but instead she simply motioned for the company to depart.

  Erland noticed the officer was pale and perspiring and felt no envy for him this night. But as they rounded the corner, Sharana’s voice was once again honey and wine as she said, ‘I suppose it may be something to do with this unfortunate business of your father’s army. I doubt it could be anything really dangerous. Not in the upper city.’

  Erland tried to reconcile the sweet and smiling girl who walked beside him now to the shouting one who had dressed down an officer only a moment before, and he couldn’t.

  They entered the wing of the palace that contained the Court of Light, the formal hall of governing. Erland had not been inside it before, even when called before the Empress. Always before, they had met in the Empress’s audience hall.