Krondor_ The Assassins Part 15

William sighed. "When I came here, I really thought I'd train and then head off to some frontier outpost."

James laughed. "You're the Prince's cousin, even if only by adoption. You didn't imagine they'd let any member of the family conDoin rot away at Highcastle or Iron Pa.s.s, did you?"

"Well, I just never thought of myself as a royal, that's all."

"Living on that island out in the middle of that huge lake, I can see why you wouldn't."

William yawned. "Well, even if I don't have to report in, I could use some sleep."

"Not yet," said James, throwing his arm around William's shoulder. "We have some business to conduct."

"Business? Now?"

"Yes," said James. "And besides, I want to hear all about you and this Jazhara."

William said nothing, but he rolled his eyes heavenward and silently said, Why me? Why me?

James opened the door into the noisy inn. William had been telling him the story of his relationship with the magician summoned from the island.

"So, you see, it was really a silly boy thing, and she was very kind about it, but it was very embarra.s.sing to say the least. I'll hardly know what to say when she arrives."

"How old were you?"

"Sixteen."

James glanced around the inn. "I think I understand. You'll appreciate my view of such things is different. By that age I was very . . . familiar with women, in both the good and bad sense of'familiar'." He motioned across the room. "There's a table."

William and James had to maneuver their way past several groups of men standing drinking at tall tables along the wall, and between larger round dining tables. Food could be seen here and there, but most of the crowd seemed to be intent on drinking ale, or the occasional goblet of wine.

As the two of them sat down, William said, "Why are we here?"

James waved his hand around. "Partially, to see what we can see." William frowned, not having any idea of what James was talking about. "And partially, sitting in your tiny room with that other young lieutenant. . ."

"Gordon," supplied William.

"Yes, Gordon . . . would probably do nothing to keep you from some black despair or another over your handling of the mission-which was quite good, no matter how you feel. And lastly. . ."James waved his hand ". . . I promised Talia I'd bring you back here."

"You what-" he started to say, as Talia reached them.

"James, William, how lovely to see you. What is your pleasure?"

"Two ales, please," said James.

She turned and gave William an extra little smile as she left to fetch their drinks.

"See," said James.

"See what?"

"She likes you."

William turned to watch her move through the press of bodies in the room. "You think?"

"I know." James leaned across the table and gave William's arm a brotherly squeeze, then sat back. 'Trust me. She thinks you're a Prince."

"What?" said William, now confused. "You told her I was a Prince?"

James laughed. "No, you stone-crowned idiot. A 'Prince of a fellow.' A nice young man."

"Oh," said William, sitting back. Then he looked at James. "So you really think she likes me?"

James could barely contain himself as Talia returned with two flagons. Setting them down, William admired the pretty girl for a brief instant, then looked away as she said to him, "You've not been avoiding me, have you, Will?"

William glanced at her and saw that she was smiling, and he returned the smile. "No, I was just on a . . . mission for the Prince."

"That's fine," she said cheerfully, scooping up the coins James put on the table for the ale and walking away.

William sipped his ale, then glanced at James. Before William could speak, James said, "She likes you."

"Oh," William replied, turning his attention back to the ale.

James chuckled. They sat in silence for a few minutes, James appearing to be watching the crowd absently, but William noticed that his eyes were going from one man to the next, as if memorizing them or looking for something in those faces.

At last, James said, "We need to leave. Drink up."

"Why?"

James drained his ale and stood. "Now."

William took another sip, stood and followed James. As they edged through the crowd, Talia saw them leaving and called to them, "Don't be strangers!"

William waved, but James just hurried through the door.

Outside the inn, James held up his hand and said, "Wait."

"For what?"

"For that fellow there," James said, pointing to a man nearing a distant corner, "to turn."

The man turned the corner, and James said, "Now. Hurry."

"We're following him?"

"Brilliant."

"I mean, why?"

James said, "Because a few days back he and a few of his friends were following me. And I need to find out why."

William said nothing, but reflexively his hand fell to the hilt of his sword.

TEN - Revelation

James glanced around the corner.

The man he had seen leave The Rainbow Parrot was just ducking around the far corner of the road. James held up his hand for William to wait. As the squire expected, a moment later the man reappeared for a brief instant, peeping around the corner to see if he was being followed.

"It's a trap," said James.

William drew his sword. "Do we walk away, or do we spring it?"

"Neither," said James. "They know there are two of us, so they'll be ready for you and that oversized cleaver of yours." He glanced upward. "How're your climbing skills?"

"What?" said William glancing upward. "Here?"

"Where else?" replied James as he followed the roof-line with his eye. "Follow me," he instructed, heading back the way they had come.

Haifa block away was an alley. "We don't have much time," James said. "They'll wait another two minutes, then they'll figure we've tumbled to the trap."

James found what he was looking for, a wooden stairway to an upper floor door. He hurried up the steps, trying not to make any more noise than necessary, and William followed close behind. To William the noise of his own heavy boots on the wooden steps was certainly loud enough to wake those inside and warn whoever waited half a block away. Yet James seemed untroubled by it. He reached the door at the top of the stairs and pointed up toward the overhanging roof.

"Give me a boost," James whispered.

William made a stirrup with his hands and lifted James easily upward so he was quickly sitting on the roof. James turned and reached over to help William up. "Hurry!" he whispered.

William grabbed James's hand and came up easily. An instant later both were moving, crouched low, toward the far edge. James again lay down and peered over the edge. He held up his hand and showed four fingers, without taking his eyes off the men below.

William didn't risk looking over as James retreated.

"Ever jump off a roof before?"

"What, twenty feet?"

"Something like that."

"With something to break my fall, yes."

James grinned. "There are four possibilities down there."

He pulled out his sword and sat down on the edge of the roof. He slid until he could grab the eaves with his left hand. He held himself there for an instant, cutting the distance from his feet to the ground by nearly half, then pushed away and landed feet-first on the shoulders of the rearmost man. The ambusher smashed into the ground, either dead or unconscious, as James tucked and rolled across the hard cobbles of the street. William didn't consider the bruises that move would leave, or the splinters he would collect, as he attempted to duplicate James's feat.

His hand missed the roof, so rather than slowing down, William fell hard upon the next man below, crushing his spine as they slammed into the street. William's head swam for an instant, but while he gathered his wits, training and reflex took over. He was sitting on a corpse; without thought he got off and rolled over into a fighter's crouch.

As his faculties returned, William found himself with his sword out, point leveled at a frightened-looking man, who had his own sword at the ready. James was engaged with another man who was either trying to circle him to escape, or get into a better position to fight. The man James had landed on lay groaning on the cobbles.

William's opponent, a stocky fellow with the muscles of a dockworker, lunged with his sword. William, even though still slightly dazed from his fall, easily deflected the lunge and parried. He let the man slide up on him, then threw his shoulder into him, knocking him back.

The man staggered but recovered before William could close. William blinked, trying to clear his vision, and when things cleared, he saw his opponent dropping his sword and putting up his hands, palms outward. James was standing behind him, his sword firmly pressing against the man's spine. "That's the lad," said James. "No sense dying along with the others, is there?"

The man said nothing. He made a small step forward as if he was trying to escape, then threw himself backward with all his weight, impaling himself on James's sword.

William watched in shock. "What?"

James yanked loose his sword and caught the man as he fell. He looked into the man's eyes, and said, "Dead."

"Why?"

He reached inside the man's tunic and pulled out an amulet. It was a dark metal, with a relief hawk inscribed upon it.

"Nighthawks," James said. "Again." He looked around. "Wait here."

William said nothing as James scurried off into the night. Time pa.s.sed slowly and William wondered what James could be doing. He held his sword ready and waited. Just as he began to wonder if he should leave and find the city guards, James reappeared with a pair of city constables. "Here," he said, pointing to the bodies. "I want one of you to guard them and another to hurry and get a wagon. Bring them to the palace."

"Yes, squire," said a constable. He glanced at his companion, who nodded, and turned and hurried off into the darkness.

"What now?" asked William.

"Back to the palace, as soon as the wagon gets here."

William watched, suddenly overwhelmed by numbing fatigue, as the constable studied the fallen a.s.sa.s.sins. James was content to remain silent, and William also felt no need to speak. But deep inside, beneath the uncertainty about his handling of the duke's safety, and the enormity of what they were about to undertake, he wondered if he was equal to the tasks being set before him. Taking a deep breath, he resolved that, ready or not, he would do his best, and leave it to the G.o.ds to judge his efforts worthy or not.

Arutha stood in the dark cellar as the four dead men were stripped and examined closely by a pair of soldiers. James and William waited nearby, watching.

Every article of clothing, weapon and personal item was examined for a hint of where these men came from. As expected, the search turned up little. Each man had an identical hawk amulet on a chain. Other than weapons, a simple ring on one man, and a small pouch of gold coins on another, the men were anonymous. Nothing hinted at their origins.

Arutha pointed to one of the shirts and said, "Give that to me.

A soldier brought it over and Arutha looked at it closely. "I wish I had my wife's eye for garments, but I think this is a Keshian weave."

James said, "The boots!"

Arutha waved and all the dead men's boots were brought over. Arutha, James and William inspected them and found several bootmakers' marks.

"I don't recognize these," said Arutha. "So they're not Krondorian, I'm certain."