Silverthorn

by Raymond Feist

  “Good, for we leave Sarth at first light.”

  “What do you propose?” said Martin.

  “I’m going to put Gardan on the first ship bound from Sarth for Krondor, and we’ll continue on.”

  “Continue on where?” asked Laurie.

  “Elvandar.”

  Martin smiled. “It will be good to visit there again.”

  Jimmy sighed; Arutha said, “What is it?”

  “I was just thinking of your palace cooks and bony horsebacks.” . Arutha said, “Well, don’t think of them too long; you’re returning to Krondor with Gardan.”

  “And miss all the fun?”

  Laurie said to Martin, “This lad has a definitely warped sense of fun.”

  Jimmy started to speak, but Dominic said, “Highness, if I may travel with your captain, I wish to journey to Krondor.”

  “Of course, but what of your duties?”

  “Another will take my office. I will not be fit for that sort of duty for some time, and we cannot wait. There is no shame or dishonor; it is simply necessary.”

  “Then I am sure Jimmy and Gardan will welcome your company.”

  “Wait—” began Jimmy.

  Ignoring the boy, Arutha asked the monk, “What sends you to Krondor?”

  “Simply that it lies on my route to Stardock. Father John thinks it vital we should inform Pug and the other magicians of what we know to be occurring. They practice mighty arts unavailable to us.”

  “That is well taken. We have need of all the allies we can muster. I should have considered that myself. I will give you some additional intelligence to take to them, if you don’t mind. And I’ll have Gardan escort you down to Stardock.”

  “That would be kind.”

  Jimmy had been trying to be heard as he protested being sent back to Krondor. Ignoring his protests, Arutha said to Laurie, “Take our aspiring young duke here and go down to town and find a ship. We’ll follow tomorrow. Also see about some fresher mounts, and don’t get into trouble.”

  Arutha walked away toward the barracks with Dominic and Martin, leaving Laurie and Jimmy in the courtyard. Jimmy was still trying to make himself heard, and was saying, “…but…”

  Laurie clapped Jimmy on the shoulder and said, “Come along, ‘Your Grace.’ Let’s get down the road. If we can finish our business early, we’ll see if we can find a game at the inn.” An evil light seemed to come into Jimmy’s eyes at that. “Game?” he said.

  “You know, something like pashawa, or over-under-man-in-between. Knucklebones or stones. Gambling.”

  “Oh,” said the boy. “You’ll have to show me how.”

  As he turned for the stable, Laurie fetched him a kick in the rump, propelling him along. “Show you how, indeed. I’m not some rube in from the farmlands here. I heard that the first time I lost my poke.”

  Running forward, Jimmy laughed. “It was worth a try!”

  —

  Arutha entered the darkened room. Looking down at the figure on the cot, he said, “You sent for me?”

  Micah raised himself up and leaned back against the wall. “Yes. I hear you’re leaving this hour. Thank you for coming.” He indicated Arutha should sit upon the bed. “I need a little sleep, but I’ll be fit enough in a week or so.

  “Arutha, your father and I were friends as youngsters. Caldric was just establishing the practice of bringing squires to court that’s now taken for granted. We were quite a bunch. Brucal of Yabon was our senior Squire, and he ran us ragged. In those days we were a fiery crew, your father, myself, and Guy du Bas-Tyra.” At mention of Guy’s name, Arutha stiffened but said nothing. “I like to think we were the backbone of the Kingdom in our day. Now you are. Borric did well with you and Lyam, and Martin brings no shame. I am now serving Ishap, but I still love this Kingdom, son. I just wanted you to know my prayers are with you.”

  Arutha said, “Thank you, my lord Dulanic.”

  He eased himself on his pillows. “No longer. I’m just a simple monk now. By the way, who rules in your place?”

  “Lyam is in Krondor and will remain until I return. Volney acts as Chancellor.”

  At this Micah laughed, which brought a wince of pain. “Volney! Ishap’s teeth! He must hate it.”

  “He does,” said Arutha with a smile.

  “You going to have Lyam name him Duke?”

  “I don’t know. As much as he protests, he’s the most able administrator available. We lost some good young men during the Riftwar.” Arutha smiled his crooked smile. “Jimmy suggests I name him Duke of Krondor.”

  “Don’t sell that one short, Arutha. Train him while you have him. Pile the responsibility on him until he yells, and give him more. Educate him well, then take stock. He’s a rare one.”

  Arutha said, “Why is this, Micah? Why this concern for matters you’ve put behind?”

  “Because I’m a vain old man and a sinner, despite my repentence. I still admit to pride in how my city fares. And because you’re your father’s son.”

  Arutha was silent for a long time, then he said, “You and Father were close once, weren’t you?”

  “Very. Only Guy was closer to Borric.”

  “Guy!” Arutha couldn’t believe his father’s most hated enemy could have ever once been his friend. “How is that possible?”

  Micah studied Arutha. “I thought your father would have told you before he died.” He was silent for a long moment. “Then again, Borric wouldn’t.” He sighed. “We who were friends to both your father and Guy, we all took a vow. We vowed never to speak of the shame which caused them to end the closest of friendships, and which caused Guy to wear black every day for the rest of his life, earning him the name Black Guy.”

  Arutha said, “Father once mentioned that strange act of personal courage, though he had no other good to speak of Guy.”

  “He wouldn’t. And I will not either, for Guy would have to release me from the vow, or be proved dead, before I would speak. But I can say that before that schism they were as brothers. Whether wenching, brawling, or in war, neither was more than a voice’s call from the other’s aid.

  “But look you, Arutha. You have to rise early, and you must get rest. You’ve no more time to idle away over matters long buried. You must be off to find a cure for Anita….” The old man’s eyes misted over, and Arutha realized that in his own dark concern for her he had ignored the fact that Micah had long been a member of Erland’s household. He had known Anita since birth. She would be like a granddaughter to him.

  Micah swallowed hard. “These damn ribs! Breathe deeply and your eyes tear like you’re eating raw onion.” He let out a long sigh. “I held her in my arms when the priests of Sung the White blessed her, less than an hour after her birth.” His eyes took on a far-off look; he turned his face away and said, “Save her, Arutha.”

  “I will find a cure.”

  Whispering to control his emotions, Micah said, “Then go, Arutha. Ishap protect you.”

  Arutha squeezed the old monk’s hand for a moment, rose, and left his quarters. Walking across the main hall of the abbey building, he was intercepted by a silent monk who indicated he should follow. He was led to the Abbot’s quarters and found the Abbot and Brother Anthony waiting for him.

  “It is good you took time to visit with Micah, Highness,” said the Abbot.

  Suddenly Arutha became alarmed. “Micah will recover, won’t he?”

  “If Ishap wills it. He is an old man to be withstanding such an ordeal.”

  Brother Anthony seemed incensed by the notion and almost snorted. The Abbot ignored the sound and said, “We have given some thought to a problem that needs be dealt with.” He pushed a small case toward Arutha, who reached over and lifted it from the table.

  The case was clearly ancient, of delicately carved wood, and time had worn it almost smooth. When it was opened it revealed a velvet cushion upon which rested a small talisman. It was a bronze hammer, a miniature of that which Micah had carried, a thong passing through a tin
y hole in the haft. “What is it?”

  Anthony said, “You must have considered how your foe was able to locate you seemingly at will. It is likely that some agency, perhaps the serpent priest, had located you with a scrying spell of one sort or another. That talisman is a legacy from our ancient past. It was fashioned at the oldest known enclave of our faith, the Ishapian abbey at Leng. It is the most powerful artifact we possess. It will mask your movements from all scrying magic. To any who have been following you by arcane means, you will simply vanish from sight. We have no protection from mundane eyes, but if you are cautious and mask your identity, you should be able to reach Elvandar without being intercepted. But never remove it, or you will again be subject to location by sorcery. It will also render you impervious to the sort of attack we endured last night. Such a creature would be unable to harm you—though your enemy may still strike through those about you, for they will not be so protected.”

  Arutha placed the talisman around his neck and said, “Thank you.”

  The Abbot rose. “Ishap protect you, Highness, and know you may always find haven here at Sarth.”

  Arutha said thank you again and left the Abbot. As he returned to his quarters and finished rolling his travel bundle, he considered what he had learned. Pushing doubt aside, he determined once again to save Anita.

  TWELVE

  NORTHWARD

  A lone rider raced up the road.

  Arutha looked back as Martin warned of the approaching horseman. Laurie turned his horse, drawing his sword, as Martin began to laugh. Arutha said, “If that’s who I think, I’ll have his ears.”

  Martin said, “Then sharpen your knife, brother, for look at the way those elbows flap as he rides.”

  Within moments Martin’s prediction proved correct, for a grinning Jimmy reined in. Arutha took no pains to hide his displeasure. He said to Laurie, “I thought you told me he was safely upon the ship for Krondor with Gardan and Dominic.”

  Laurie looked on with an expression of helplessness. “He was, I swear.”

  Jimmy looked at the three. “Isn’t anyone going to say hello?”

  Martin tried to look serious, but even his elven-learned composure was being tested. Jimmy had all the ingenuousness of an eager puppy, as false a pose as most others he assumed, and Arutha was trying hard to keep a stern demeanor. Laurie hid his laughter behind a quickly raised hand and a cough.

  Arutha shook his head, looking down at the ground. Finally he said, “All right, what is the tale?”

  Jimmy said, “First of all, I swore an oath; it might not mean much to you, but it is still an oath, and it binds us ‘until the cat is skinned.’ And there was one other little thing.”

  Arutha said, “What was it?”

  “You were being watched while you left Sarth.”

  Arutha sat back in the saddle, as startled by the boy’s offhanded tone as much as by the revelation. “How can you be certain?”

  “In the first, the man was known to me. He’s a certain merchant from Questor’s View, by name Havram, who is in fact a smuggler employed by the Mockers. He’s been absent since the Nighthawks’ infiltration was made known to the Upright Man, and he was in the inn where Gardan, Dominic, and I waited for the ship. I went aboard ship with the good captain and the monk and slipped over the side just before they weighed anchor. Then, in the second, the man was without the normal retinue he employed when working at his normal trade. He is usually a vocal, affable man, given to public display when acting the merchant, but in Sarth he lurked under a heavy cowl and hugged dark corners. He would not be in such a place, ignoring his usual role, unless forced to by unusual circumstances. And he followed you from the inn, until he was clear as to which way you had ridden. But most important of all, he was an ofttime companion of both Laughing Jack and Golden Dase.”

  Martin said, “Havram! That was the man Laughing Jack said recruited Golden and him into the Nighthawks.”

  “They’ll be relying on spies and agents now that they can’t use magic to find you,” added Laurie. “It makes sense they had someone in Sarth waiting for you to come down from the Abbey.”

  “Did he see you leave?” asked the Prince.

  Jimmy laughed. “No, but I saw him leave.” They all looked at him with questions on their faces, and the boy said, “I took care of him.”

  “You did what?”

  Jimmy looked pleased with himself. “Even a town as small as Sarth has its underside if you know where to look. Using my reputation as a Mocker of Krondor, I made myself known and established my bona fides. Certain people who wish to remain anonymous were made to understand I knew who they were—and would be willing to neglect mentioning it to the local garrison in exchange for a service. As they thought I still enjoyed a favored position in the Mockers, they chose not to deposit me in the bay, especially when I sweetened the deal with a small pouch of gold I carried. I then mentioned there was not a single person in the Western Realm who would miss a certain merchant taking his ease at the inn. They took my meaning. The false merchant is most like on his way to Kesh via the Durbin slave route even as we speak, learning the finer points of menial labor.”

  Laurie slowly shook his head. “The boy has a definite hard edge to him.”

  Arutha heaved a resigned sigh. “It seems I am again in your debt, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy said, “There’s a small caravan coming up the coast about an hour behind. If we ride slowly they may overtake us by nightfall. We could most likely hire on as additional guards and ride in with wagons and a few other mercenaries when Murmandamus is out looking for the three riders who left Sarth.”

  Arutha laughed. “What am I to do with you?” Before Jimmy could answer, he said, “And don’t say anything about being Duke of Krondor.” As he turned his mount, he said, “And don’t tell me where you got that horse.”

  —

  Fate, or the efficacy of the Ishapian talisman, served Arutha and his three companions, for they encountered no trouble along the road to Ylith. Jimmy’s prediction of a caravan’s overtaking them proved accurate. It was a poor thing, consisting of five wagons served by only two bravos hired as guards. Once the merchant in charge was satisfied they were not brigands, he welcomed them as traveling companions—for he gained four additional bodyguards for the price of a few meals.

  For two weeks they traveled with little to disrupt the monotony of the journey. Peddlers, traders, and caravans of all sizes, with up to a score of mercenary guards, passed both ways along the coast between Questor’s View and Sarth. Arutha was satisfied that should some spy or agent discover him among the throng of bravos riding along the road, it would be by pure chance.

  Finally, near sundown, they could see the lights of Ylith in the distance. Arutha rode point with Yanov the merchant’s two guards. He held back until the lead wagon was even with him and said, “Ylith ahead, Yanov.”

  The lead wagon passed, and the stout merchant, a silk and fine-cloth peddler from Krondor, waved happily. Arutha had been relieved to discover Yanov an ebullient man, for he paid little attention to what others had to say and Arutha’s quickly contrived history had stood up to scrutiny. As far as the Prince could tell, Yanov had never seen him before.

  Martin was the first to overtake Arutha, as the last wagon in the train moved past him. “Ylith,” said Arutha, kicking his mount into motion.

  Jimmy and Laurie crossed the road from where they had ridden flank as Martin said, “Soon we’ll be shed of this train and can see to new mounts. These need a rest.”

  Laurie said, “I’ll be pleased to be rid of Yanov. He cackles like a fishwife, without a halt.”

  Jimmy shook his head in mock sympathy. “And he hardly ever lets anyone else tell a story around the campfire.”

  Laurie glared. Arutha said, “Enough. We’ll be another band of travelers. If Baron Talanque discovers I’m here, it’s a state affair. We’ll have feasting, tourneys, hunting, receptions, and everyone between the Great Northern Mountains and Kesh will know I�
�m in Ylith. Talanque’s a fine fellow, but he does enjoy his revels.”

  Jimmy laughed. “He’s not the only one.” With a whoop and a shout, he spurred his horse forward. Arutha, Laurie, and Martin sat amazed for a moment, then the relief of reaching Ylith struck and they were off after the boy.

  As Arutha raced past the lead wagon, he shouted, “Good trading, Master Yanov!” The merchant looked after them as if they’d become bereft of reason. Etiquette required he pay them a token for their stint at guard.

  Reaching the gates of the city, they slowed, as a caravan of some size had just finished passing into Ylith and several other travelers were waiting for it to clear the portals before they could enter. Jimmy reined in behind a farmer’s hay cart and spun his horse to face his companions as they rode up, laughing at the momentary frolic. Without words they fell into line, watching as soldiers passed the cart through. In these peaceful days, the soldiers seemed to be giving only the most cursory inspection to those passing into the city.

  Jimmy looked about, for Ylith was the first large city encountered since they’d left Krondor, and the busy metropolitan rhythm was already making him feel at home. Then near the gates he noticed a lone figure hunkered down, watching those who passed through. From his tartan plaid and leather breeches, it was clear he was a Hadati hillman. His hair fell past his shoulders, but a warrior’s topknot was bound high, and he wore a rolled scarf tied above his eyes. Across his knees rested a pair of wooden sheaths, protecting the sharp edges of the long, slender sword and a shorter half-sword common to his people. Most striking about the man was his face, for around the eyes, from forehead down to cheekbones, his face was painted bone-white, as was his chin directly below his mouth. He clearly studied the Prince as he passed, then slowly rose as Jimmy and Martin followed Arutha and Laurie into the city.

  Jimmy suddenly laughed aloud, as if Martin had joked, and stretched, affording himself a quick glance behind. The hillman was slowly walking through the gates behind them, putting his sword and half-sword in his belt-sash.

  Martin said, “The Hadati?” When Jimmy nodded, the Duke said, “You’ve a quick eye. Is he following?”