Jimmy the Hand

by Raymond E. Feist

  Flora lifted the Prince’s head and brought the flask to his lips.

  ‘Thank you,’ Erland said after a long drink. He raised his brows. ‘That was rather good, and I haven’t had anything since they moved me down here this morning.’

  It might have been his imagination but it seemed to Jimmy that the Prince’s colour was better. Erland indicated that he would like more and Flora gave it to him.

  ‘We’ve come to get you out of here, uh, your highness?’ Jimmy said. At least he thought highness was the right thing to call him. He was pretty sure that your majesty was totally wrong.

  But the Prince shook his head. ‘There’s little point.’ He smiled at them. ‘Not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, young Mockers. But,’ he paused to catch his breath, ‘I will not live much longer.’ He cleared his throat and the fear that he might cough was in his eyes. When no such fit took place he continued speaking. ‘I have been ill for a long time, and I am tired. Putting me here will only hasten my death, but death is coming, no matter where I am.’ He closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly. ‘The priests and chirurgeons have done all they can, but there is a sickness inside my lungs that is slowly eating away at me.’ His face was so drawn and pale, Jimmy would have thought him confined for years, not hours, so he judged the Prince a man very much close to death. ‘Much too tired to make the effort to escape. But you should.’ He smiled at them.

  Jimmy knew the Prince was right for somehow he could see the man’s death in his worn face.

  ‘Your wife!’ Flora said. ‘We could help her escape.’

  ‘She’s under guard up in our apartment,’ Erland said. ‘You could never reach her.’ He took a long, slow breath, trying to avoid another coughing fit. ‘Del Garza ordered me put here when my daughter fled the castle. She’s hiding somewhere in the city. He thinks that by threatening me with a cold death, she’ll return without him tearing apart the city and starting a civil riot.’

  ‘No, sir,’ said Jimmy. ‘She’s not in the city. She’s three days or more gone by ship to Crydee, with Prince Arutha.’

  ‘Arutha!’ said Erland, then he was racked by another coughing attack. When he could speak, he said, ‘How is it the Prince of Crydee was here?’

  Jimmy quickly recounted what he knew, that Arutha and his companions had come to Krondor to seek Erland’s aid in the next spring campaign against the invading Tsurani, and had found the city under martial law and Guy du Bas-Tyra’s rule. That they had tried to lie low while assessing what was in play in Krondor, and had come under observation of both Radburn’s secret police and the Mockers; the Mockers had barely got to Arutha first.

  He finished quickly by telling of the night fight at the docks and the successful departure of the Sea Swift, and the likelihood that Anita was safely away from Krondor if she hadn’t been returned by now.

  ‘Thank you for that,’ said the Prince. ‘That is comforting. If du Bas-Tyra returns to word my daughter is out of the city, he will almost certainly return me to the comfort of my apartments and the good ministry of my wife. I couldn’t ask for better news than to know my daughter in safety with the son of Borric of Crydee.

  ‘Now, you must go. The guard will rouse or another will come soon, and you must not be here. Return the wineskin and cloak as you found them. The guard must think he fell asleep. No matter what else, no one must know you saw me. If word reached the city I was near death, foolishly loyal men might seek to free me. Bloodshed on behalf of one already near death is pointless. Promise you’ll not mention this visit to anyone?’

  They both said they would keep silent.

  With surprising strength, Prince Erland demanded, ‘Not even to one another, lest someone overhear. Your oath!’

  Jimmy blinked in surprise, but said, ‘By Ruthia and Banath, my oath, highness.’

  Flora repeated the same oath and the Prince relaxed somewhat. ‘Good. Now go.’

  Jimmy quickly returned the cloak and wineskin to the guard, taking a moment to pour a bit on the man’s face and down his tunic so that his sergeant would be less inclined to believe any stories about unexplainable slumbers, and turned to look back before he closed the cell door. He saw the Prince seem to shrink, becoming even smaller as he lay back and closed his eyes, and something in his heart twinged.

  The two Mockers moved swiftly back to the large cell, not meeting anyone on the way. Inside they found the floor covered with sand.

  ‘Where did this come from?’ Flora wondered. ‘I swear it wasn’t here before.’

  Jimmy looked up at the ceiling nervously, but it seemed solid. Then he looked over at the hole in the centre of the cell and saw a flood of sand pouring down through it. Oh, he thought and his heart sank. Asher had kept mumbling about ‘Something . . .’ Apparently the ‘something’ he’d forgotten was how much of the potion to use. Maybe only a part of a drop, while Jimmy had dumped the entire contents! It looked as if the potion was far more powerful than Jimmy had anticipated.

  Which might just mean that the ceiling would be coming down imminently.

  ‘Let’s go!’ Jimmy said, giving Flora a shove.

  She turned and gave him one back.

  ‘Now, Flora! Before this whole place comes down on us!’

  The girl stared at him, her eyes wide. ‘Magic!’ she said. ‘You used magic!’

  ‘What else?’ he asked and thrust the rope into her hands. ‘Now go!’

  By the time she turned to him, she was up to her waist in falling sand. ‘Don’t tell me you went to Alban Asher.’

  ‘At this point I’ll say anything you want, Flora!’ He waved her down. ‘Go! So that I can go. Please!’

  The last thing she said before she disappeared into the hole was, ‘For the love of Banath, Jimmy, he’s a drunk!’

  ‘As if I didn’t know it,’ Jimmy muttered, taking hold of the rope.

  This would be one of those times when the magician’s spell didn’t work as expected. Not exactly the way he’d planned for his name to pass into legend. But since, for the most part, this exploit had been a success Jimmy supposed he could accept this one little mishap. He pulled the cloth over his face, closed his eyes and went down the rancid shaft for the last time.

  Laughing Jack smacked Jimmy hard enough to knock him down, then yanked him back up by his collar and shook him, hard.

  ‘Enough,’ the Nightmaster said.

  Jack snapped a look at him, showing his teeth.

  ‘I said, enough,’ the Nightmaster repeated, quietly, but with an edge in his voice.

  Laughing Jack let Jimmy go so suddenly the boy staggered.

  ‘You can go.’

  Jack nodded, his expression showing his disagreement. Then he glared at Jimmy and turned and left, closing the door behind him.

  They were in the upper room of a supposedly abandoned house in the Poor Quarter, and they could hear the floor creaking with every step the Nightwarden took as he walked away.

  The Nightmaster shook his head and tsked. ‘You are too bold, Jimmy the Hand. Do you know that almost half a tower came down today? Straight down it fell, right into the west half of the dungeon. It’s a miracle that no one was killed.’

  The Nightmaster’s face was bland, but Jimmy could hear a smile in his voice. It was all he could do not to smile in return.

  ‘Word is you were at the bottom of this mess,’ the Nightmaster went on. ‘And the Upright Man is most upset that you have, once again, disobeyed direct orders. Do you know what those orders were?’

  Jimmy thought it best to deny that he did, so he shook his head.

  ‘Keep out of sight and do nothing. You don’t remember hearing that? How odd, when I have witnesses that you were present at the time those orders were issued.’ The Nightmaster sat forward and folded his hands before him on the desk.

  ‘You’ve put the Upright Man in a difficult position, Jimmy the Hand. You’ve deliberately disobeyed orders, yet you’ve also rescued over thirty Mockers from certain death.’ One corner of his mouth quirked
upward. ‘Not to mention that you’ve managed to hide their escape. It will be months, if ever, before del Garza discovers there are no bodies under all that stone. With those terrible rats down there gnawing on the corpses and the main sewers flooding with the spring rain, why even the bones will be washed out to sea before the workers get down there.’ The Nightmaster fought to keep a smile from spreading too broadly as he added, ‘Without his even knowing it, you’ve made our enemy look very foolish.’

  The Nightmaster spread his hands. ‘Yet, what can we do? The Upright Man’s thankful you’ve saved thirty of your brethren, but he’s still got to cut your throat and throw you in the bay. If such a breach of orders goes unpunished then others will believe that they, too, can do whatever the bloody hell they wish. Others far less clever, or lucky, than yourself. That way lies chaos and Old Night.’ He rubbed his upper lip and stared at Jimmy. ‘Of course, if you can’t be found to be punished, then perhaps it will all blow over and nothing will need to be done at all. After all, every once in a while the Upright Man offers a general amnesty.’ He leaned back, not taking his eyes from the boy.

  Jimmy nodded. The amnesty was offered to all who came forward and confessed their transgressions. It usually required that any loot not shared out as it should be had to be offered along with the promise not to do it again. Jimmy thought it a good idea, as it made for a little extra something in the share out after the Upright Man and his crew took their cut, and it made it easier for the Daymaster and Nightmaster to know who to watch for double-dealing. It also kept the Upright Man from having to kill off all the members, as sooner or later every Mocker ended up breaking one rule or another. But, it would also apply to someone who disobeyed orders!

  Jimmy said, ‘Can’t be found? As in can’t be found, or can’t be found because he was dropped into the harbour with heavy weights?’

  ‘The first. If you were to leave Krondor, and travel around a bit . . . Travelling is said to be very educational, and in this case it would be very good for your health.’

  Jimmy felt his gullet tighten and a heavy weight settle under his breastbone. He stammered: ‘B-but I’ve never, n-never been out of Krondor before in my life!’

  The Nightmaster leaned forward again. ‘Let me put it to you this way—either take yourself off, or take what’s coming to you. Am I clear?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Jimmy forced calm on himself. How bad could it be? Other people managed to live beyond Krondor. There was a whole world out there to explore!

  He was homesick already.

  ‘Then you may go.’ The Nightmaster looked at Jimmy from under his eyebrows. ‘And when I say go I mean far away. Just in case you didn’t understand the first time I said it.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Jimmy darted out of the Nightwarden’s room, past a snarling Laughing Jack, and headed quickly out of Mocker’s Rest. He had to go fetch his gold before nightfall, then find a way safely to the caravanserai outside the eastern gate. He would somehow get past the guards—he had no doubt of his ability to do that—then either beg or buy his way onto the first caravan heading east or north. He might be told to go far, but he would stay in the Kingdom and not risk heading down into the deserts and Great Kesh beyond.

  Feeling nervous and excited in equal measures, he hurried into the sewers one more time.

  SIX

  Journey

  Jimmy raised his hand.

  He held up two fingers, and the innkeeper filled two tarred leather mugs from the barrels that rested on trestles along one wall.

  He was middle-aged and bald and fat; the barmaid was probably his wife, and looked the same, except for having hair. She waited expectantly until Jimmy fished in his pouch and brought out the coppers. The tavern wasn’t much: a rush-strewn floor, brick walls with patches of what had once been plaster, and rough wooden tables and plank benches and stools. The smell wasn’t too bad, though; mostly spilled beer, which was inevitable.

  The place did have the advantage of not being a known Mocker hangout: most of the other customers right now were dockwallopers and labourers, nursing a mug of beer to make it last, with maybe bread and cheese and pickles on the side.

  Not much of an advertisement for honest toil, Jimmy thought morosely, taking a mouthful and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. But then I was never tempted.

  The Sail and Anchor was as typical a sailors’ dive as you could find in the dockside quarter of Krondor. Jimmy had scouted the caravanserai and had judged it unlikely he could slip out within a day or so, given the close scrutiny everyone was being subjected to as they tried to leave the city. The pulling down of the tower above the cells had saved over thirty Mockers, but it had driven del Garza into a frenzy of reprisals. A few Mockers too stupid to keep out of sight were already down in the Market Square Gaol—the Sheriff’s Constables ran that lock-up—but they stood a fair chance of avoiding the gallows, for none had been collared for a hanging offence, unless del Garza changed the laws again. However, a few common workers and a couple of merchants’ wives and daughters had also been rounded up, so now del Garza had the guilds and citizens in an uproar.

  From what Jimmy could see in the falling darkness the previous evening, del Garza already had every engineer and mason in the Kingdom crawling over that tower—it looked as if he meant to have it back in place before Duke Guy returned from the Keshian border. Jimmy smiled. Toss in a magician or two and he might just pull that off.

  ‘Thanks,’ Flora said and took a sip, watching Jimmy over the rim of her mug. ‘You’re thinking. What about?’

  He hunched over his own ale, blowing at the thin layer of froth and wondering if he looked as depressed as he felt. ‘Just having to leave the city. And having to sneak aboard a ship. I don’t care much for ships.’

  ‘Have you ever been on one?’ she asked, a little excitedly.

  ‘No, but I know enough to know once you’re on one, there’s few places where you can bolt, unless you can swim like a fish. I’m good enough at hiding, but hiding out on a ship . . . they call it being a stowaway.’

  ‘Well, don’t. Go as a passenger.’

  Jimmy sighed. ‘Del Garza’s checking passengers as close here as he is at the city gates.’

  ‘Cheer up, Jimmy! It’s not the end of the world,’ she said softly, and grew thoughtful.

  ‘No, the Upright Man just wants me to go to the end of the world,’ he said. ‘And drop off the edge for a while. Maybe he’d really like it if I managed to get kidnapped to Great Kesh, or that world the invaders come from.’ Jimmy glanced up at her from under his brows; he wasn’t even sure she was paying attention. If I’m going to grumble and moan and pity myself, at least she could listen to the specifics, he thought.

  This was not the way he’d expected things to be tonight. Someone, many someones, should be buying him an ale and dinner besides, and singing his praises, and thumping his back until it hurt. Instead he couldn’t go near Mocker’s Rest or even the sewers: he had to be out of town, and soon. Even lingering this long was a bit of a risk.

  Instead of being a hero, he was all alone in this working man’s tavern, facing exile.

  Well, all right, I’m not alone, but for all the attention Flora’s paying me I might as well be. I’m a hero, gods take it. Girls, plural, should be all over me.

  Now she was giving him a considering look. He knew that look. It was the look a woman gives you when she’s going to ask for something. Jimmy raised a single brow, waiting for the shoe to drop.

  Suddenly she gave him a brilliant smile. ‘I know where we can go,’ she said.

  ‘We?’ That was unexpected. ‘What do you mean, we?’

  ‘My mother told me that I have a grandfather and an aunt in Land’s End. She said my grandfather didn’t approve of my father.’ Flora’s eyes took on the far-away look of someone remembering. ‘Not that my parents ever said so, but they’d look at one another and they’d have these odd smiles . . . sad like . . . Anyway,’ she continued, ‘we could go to Land�
�s End and see if I still have family there. It would be like a quest! What d’ye think?’

  Jimmy blinked. It was an idea, he supposed. Or a direction at least.

  ‘Where is Land’s End?’ he asked. He’d heard of it, of course, but that didn’t mean he knew where it was or anything else about it.

  ‘I dunno. I never went there. But we can find out. What d’ye say? Shall we?’

  He widened his eyes and tipped his head, shrugging. ‘Why not? I’ve got to go somewhere, but . . . would we be welcome, just dropping in with no warning? I mean, if your grandfather didn’t approve of your father . . .’ He trailed off awkwardly.

  Flora’s lips thinned. ‘Well, the way my Pa turned out after my mother died I could hardly blame him for that, now could I?’

  Jimmy sidestepped the issue of how her father had become a brawling drunk by asking, ‘Is that why you didn’t go to Land’s End after he died?’

  With a grimace Flora shook her head. ‘I was only nine years old, Jimmy. I had no money and no idea how to get there.’ She shrugged, giving him a wry smile. ‘And the only people I ever knew were here.’

  ‘So you know how I feel,’ he said.

  Flora smiled at him. ‘I know.’ Then she put her hand over his and squeezed it. ‘Maybe after supper I can make you feel better.’

  Smiling wryly he raised his brows and sighed. At least someone was getting a free supper tonight.

  Well, I do feel better, he thought, a few hours later, stretching and smiling smugly as his eyes opened again; the candle was guttering near its finish, casting patterns of shadow on the ceiling. A lot better.

  He’d brought her to his best place; a half-ruined house with one very good room that he’d done up. Jimmy opened his eyes all the way, stretched again, yawned, and turned—only to find her gone. His sense of well-being undiminished, he crossed his arms beneath his head and remembered.

  Just before they went to sleep she had thanked him.

  He grinned. I’m a hero and no mistake, by the gods, he thought.

  Suddenly the door opened and he jumped up, clutching the sheets.