‘An hour from now at the big warehouse one street over from the Fiddler Crab Inn, near dockside.’
Jimmy knew the place. He nodded and without another word left Laughing Jack. He headed up the stairs towards the street. The question of assassins and plots would have to wait a few hours more.
Fog still overwhelmed Krondor. The warehouse district near the docks was usually quiet in the early morning hours, but this night the scene was otherworldly. Jimmy wended his way among large bales of goods, of too little value to warrant the additional expense of storage inside, and therefore safe from the threat of thievery. Bulk cotton, animal fodder to be shipped, and stacked lumber created a maze of maddening complexity through which Jimmy moved quietly. He had spied several dock watchmen, but the night’s dampness and a generous bribe kept them close to their shed, where a fire burned brightly in a brazier, relieving the gloom. Nothing short of a riot would get them away from the warmth. The Mockers would be long removed from this area before those indifferent guardians stirred.
Reaching the designated meeting place, Jimmy looked about and, seeing no one in sight, settled in to wait. He was early, as was his habit, for he liked to compose his mind before the action began. Additionally, there was something in Laughing Jack’s orders to him that made him wary. A job this important was rarely a last-minute affair, and even rarer was the Upright Man’s allowing anything to tempt the Prince’s wrath – and purloining royal wedding gifts would bring Arutha’s wrath. But Jimmy was not placed highly enough in the guild to know if everything was on the up and up. He would simply have to remain alert.
The soft hint of someone approaching caused Jimmy to tense. Whoever was coming was moving cautiously, as was to be expected, but with the faint footfalls he had heard a strange sound. It was the slight clicking of metal on wood and, as soon as recognition registered, Jimmy leapt away. With a loud thud and an eruption of wood splinters, a crossbow bolt ripped through the side of a crate, where Jimmy had stood a moment before.
An instant later, two figures, dark silhouettes in the grey night, appeared from out of the gloom, running towards him.
Sword in hand, Laughing Jack rushed Jimmy without a word, while his companion furiously cranked up his crossbow for another shot. Jimmy drew weapons and executed a parry of an overhand slash by Jack, diverting the blade with his dirk, then lunging with his rapier in return. Jack skipped to one side, and the two figures squared off.
‘Now we’ll see how well you can use that toad sticker, you snotty little bastard,’ snarled Jack. ‘Watching you bleed just might give me something to laugh about.’
Jimmy said nothing, refusing to engage in distracting conversation. His only reply was a high-line attack that drove Jack back. He had no illusions about being a better swordsman than Jack; he simply wanted to keep alive long enough to gain a chance to flee.
Back and forth they moved, exchanging blows and parries, each looking for an opening to finish the contest. Jimmy tried for a counterthrust and misjudged his position, and suddenly fire erupted in his side. Jack had managed to cut Jimmy with the edge of his sword, a painful and potentially weakening wound, but not fatal, at least not yet. Jimmy looked for more room to move, feeling sick to his stomach from the pain, while Jack pressed his advantage. Jimmy backed off from a furious overhand slashing attack as Jack used the advantage of his heavier blade to beat down Jimmy’s guard.
A sudden shout telling Jack to get out of the way warned Jimmy the other man had reloaded his crossbow. Jimmy circled away from Jack, trying to keep moving and put Jack between himself and Jack’s accomplice. Jack slashed at Jimmy, turning him back rapidly, and then hacked downwards. The force of the blow dropped Jimmy to his knees.
Abruptly Jack leapt backwards, as if a giant hand had seized him by the collar and yanked. He slammed against a large crate and for an instant his eyes registered shocked disbelief, then rolled up in his head as limp fingers lost their grip on his sword. Jimmy saw that, where Jack’s chest had been, a bloody, pulped mass was left by the passage of another crossbow bolt. But for the sudden fury of Jack’s attack, Jimmy would have received it in the back. Without a sound Jack slumped, and Jimmy realized he was pinned to the crate. Jimmy rose from his crouch, spinning to confront the nameless man, who had tossed away the crossbow with a curse. He pulled his sword and rushed Jimmy. The man aimed a blow at Jimmy’s head and the boy ducked, catching his heel. He fell heavily backwards into a sitting position while the man’s swing took him off balance slightly. Jimmy tossed his dirk at the man. The man took the point of the long dagger in the side and looked down at the wound, more an inconvenience than an injury. But the brief distraction was all Jimmy needed. An expression of uncomprehending surprise crossed the nameless man’s face as Jimmy got to one knee and ran him through.
Jimmy yanked away his blade as the man fell. He pulled his dirk from the dead man’s side, then wiped off and resheathed his blades. Slowly examining himself, he found he was bleeding but would live.
Fighting off nausea, he walked to where Jack hung against the crate. Looking at the Nightwarden, Jimmy tried to gather his thoughts. He and Jack had never cared a whit for each other, but why this elaborate trap? Jimmy wondered if this was somehow tied up with the matter of the assassin and the Prince. It was something he could dwell on after he spoke to the Prince, for if there was a direct relationship, it boded ill for the Mockers. The possibility of a betrayal by one as highly placed as Laughing Jack would shake the guild to its foundation.
Never losing his perspective, Jimmy relieved Jack and his companion of their purses, finding them both satisfactorily full. As he finished looting Jack’s companion, he noticed something around the man’s neck.
Reaching down, Jimmy came away with a gold chain, upon which hung an ebony hawk. He studied the charm for a few moments, then stuck it away in his tunic. Looking around, he spied a likely-looking place to deposit the bodies. He plucked Jack from off the bolt, dragged him and the other man over to a nook formed by crates, and tipped some heavy sacks down on top of them. He turned two damaged crates so the intact sides were revealed. It might be days before someone uncovered the corpses.
Ignoring his angry side and fatigue, Jimmy looked around to make sure he was still unobserved, then vanished into the foggy gloom.
• CHAPTER THREE •
Plots
ARUTHA ATTACKED FURIOUSLY.
Laurie exhorted Gardan to better efforts as the Prince forced his duelling companion into a retreat. The singer had willingly surrendered the honour of the first bout to Gardan, for he had been Arutha’s partner every morning upon the journey from Salador to Krondor. While the practice had sharpened sword skills grown rusty in the King’s palace, he had tired of always losing to the lightning-quick Prince. At least this morning he would have someone with whom to share his defeat. Still, the old campaigner wasn’t without a trick or two and suddenly Gardan had Arutha backing up. Laurie whooped when he realized the captain had been lulling the Prince into a false sense of control. But after a furious exchange the Prince was again on the offensive, and Gardan was crying, ‘Hold!’
The chuckling Gardan backed away. ‘In all my years there have been only three men who could best me with the blade, Highness: Swordmaster Fannon, your father, and now yourself.’
Laurie said, ‘A worthy trio.’ Arutha was about to offer a bout to Laurie when something caught his eye.
A large tree was situated in the corner of the palace exercise yard, where it overhung a wall separating the palace grounds from an alley and the city beyond. Something was moving along the branches of the tree. Arutha pointed. One of the palace guardsmen was already moving towards the tree, his attention drawn there by the Prince’s stare.
Suddenly someone dropped from the branches, landing lightly on his feet. Arutha, Laurie, and Gardan all stood with swords held ready. The guardsman took the youth, as they now clearly saw him to be, by the arm and led him towards the Prince.
As they approached, a flicker of recognition crossed Arutha’s face. ‘Jimmy?’
Jimmy executed a bow, wincing slightly at the pain in his side, poorly bandaged by himself that morning. Gardan said, ‘Highness, you know this lad?’
With a nod, Arutha said, ‘Yes. He may be a little older and a bit taller, but I know this young rogue. He’s Jimmy the Hand, already a legend among brigands and cutpurses in the city. This is the boy thief who helped Anita and me flee the city.’
Laurie studied the boy, then laughed. ‘I never saw him clearly, for the warehouse was dark when Kasumi and I were taken from Krondor by the Mockers, but by my teeth, it’s the same lad. “There’s a party at Mother’s.” ’
Jimmy grinned. ‘ “And a good time will be had by all.” ’
Arutha said, ‘So you know each other as well?’
‘I told you once that when Kasumi and I were carrying the peace message from the Tsurani Emperor to King Rodric, there was a boy who had guided us from the warehouse to the city gate and led away the guards while we escaped Krondor. This was that boy, and I never could remember his name.’
Arutha put up his sword, as did the others. ‘Well then, Jimmy, while I am glad to see you again, there is this matter of climbing walls into my palace.’
Jimmy shrugged. ‘I thought it possible you’d be willing to see an old acquaintance, Highness, but I doubted I could convince the captain’s guards to send word.’
Gardan smiled at the brash answer and signalled the guard to release his hold upon the boy’s arm. ‘Probably you’re right, Jack-a-rags.’
Jimmy suddenly became aware he looked a poor sight to these men, used to the well-dressed and -groomed inhabitants of the palace. From his raggedly cut hair down to his dirty bare feet he looked every inch the beggar boy. Then Jimmy saw the humour in Gardan’s eyes.
‘Don’t let his appearance mislead you, Gardan. He’s far more capable than his years indicate.’ To Jimmy, Arutha said, ‘You throw some discredit upon Gardan’s guards by entering in this fashion. I expect you’ve reason to seek me out?’
‘Yes, Highness. Business most serious and urgent.’
Arutha nodded. ‘Well then, what is this most serious and urgent business?’
‘Someone has placed a price on your head.’
Gardan’s face registered shock. Laurie said, ‘What – how?’
‘What leads you to think so?’ asked Arutha.
‘Because someone has already tried to collect.’
Besides Arutha, Laurie, and Gardan, two others listened to the boy’s story in the Prince’s council chambers. Earl Volney of Landreth had formerly been the assistant to the Principate Chancellor, Lord Dulanic, the Duke of Krondor who disappeared during the viceroyalty of Guy du Bas-Tyra. At Volney’s side sat Father Nathan, a priest of Sung the White, Goddess of the One Path, once one of Prince Erland’s chief advisers and there at Gardan’s request. Arutha did not know these two men, but during the months of his absence Gardan had come to trust their judgement, and that opinion counted for much with Arutha. Gardan had been virtually acting Knight-Marshal of Krondor, just as Volney had been acting Chancellor, while Arutha had been gone.
Both men were stocky, but while Volney seemed one who had never known labour, simply a man always stout, Nathan looked like a wrestler now going to fat. Under that soft appearance strength still waited. Neither spoke until Jimmy had finished recounting his two fights of the night before.
Volney studied the boy thief for a moment, looking at him from under carefully combed, bushy eyebrows. ‘Utterly fantastic. I simply don’t wish to believe such a plot can exist.’
Arutha had sat with his hands forming a tent before his face, the fingers restlessly flexing. ‘I’d not be the first prince targeted for an assassin’s blade, Earl Volney.’ He said to Gardan, ‘Double the guard at once, but quietly, with no explanation given. I do not want rumours flying about the palace. Within two weeks we’ll have every noble in the Kingdom worth mention in these halls, as well as my brother.’
Volney said, ‘Perhaps you should warn His Majesty?’
‘No,’ said Arutha flatly. ‘Lyam will be travelling with a full company of his Royal Household Guard. Have a detachment of Krondorian Lancers meet them at Malac’s Cross, but no word that it is other than a formal honour company. If a hundred soldiers can’t protect him while he rides, he can’t be protected.
‘No, our problem lies here in Krondor. We have no choice in our options.’
