Krondor_ The Assassins Part 17

"How could that be?" asked Arutha. "I thought the Night-hawks kept to themselves."

"Oh, they do, but they need contact with the outside world, and so they use those they bribe or terrorize to loyalty. Someone has to negotiate on their behalf when it comes to killing for profit."

"I thought if you wanted an a.s.sa.s.sin's services, you just left the name of the victim somewhere and they contacted you and named a price," said James.

Graves said, "Yes, but someone has to pick up that name and deliver the price. They don't do it themselves."

Arutha said, "Do you know if there are Keshians among the Nighthawks?"

Graves said, "They are a brotherhood without nation, Highness. Bands of a.s.sa.s.sins in the Kingdom count Izmali clans in the south as kin."

Arutha said, "At least that puts the Keshian a.s.sa.s.sins in the same place as the Nighthawks."

"Literally," said Graves.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you are almost certain to find your Nighthawks, both Kingdom and Keshian, at a place within a week's ride of here."

"Where?" asked Arutha. "Tell me and your crimes are pardoned and your safe pa.s.sage guaranteed."

Graves said, "To the south of Shandon Bay lies an old caravan trail, no longer used. Further south of that trail lies a range of hills, upon which once rested an ancient Keshian fortress. I only know of it because that man-" he pointed at the corpse "-spoke of it once in a drunken ramble. Some ancient map or another may have its location. But know this, the upper breastworks and towers have long since fallen, and all that remains are the underground tunnels."

James said, "Sounds a lot like what they were using up at Cavell Keep."

Graves continued. "They have water there; an ancient spring, and they can trade for food at Land's End or Shamata with anonymity. It's close enough to Krondor to strike at will, and unless you know what you're looking for, you could ride past it and never know you'd pa.s.sed an enclave of murderers."

Arutha turned to William, who had been listening quietly, and said, "Hurry to my quarters. Take as many men as you need, but I want you to go through every ancient map we have and look for any hint of that Keshian fortress."

Graves said, "Can you read Keshian, boy?"

William nodded. "I can."

Graves said, "Then look for a place called 'Valley of Lost Men.' From there trace your finger to the east. If that fortress is on the map, it might be called The Tomb of the Hopeless.'"

"I imagine it wasn't considered a choice duty station," James quipped.

Graves said, "I don't know about that, but I do know that's what that drunken murderer called it. Said the garrison had been left to die defending it or some such legend. It's said to be haunted by the spirits of soldiers, and blood drinkers and other such nonsense."

James said, "If you'd seen some of the things we have concerning the Nighthawks, Ethan, you'd change your tune.

It's very disconcerting to kill one and then have to kill him all over again a few minutes later."

Graves made a sign. "I said you were confronting dark agencies, Highness, and I mean of the blackest sort."

Arutha said, "We'll forgo your trial in the morning, Graves, but you'll remain my guest a while longer. If this tale of yours turns out to have truth in it, we'll get you on a ship for Durbin or Queg or to wherever it is you wish to travel. James, take him back to his cell."

James saluted. "Sire."

He led Graves out of the room and said, "That went well."

Graves said, "If you say so, Jimmy."

"He didn't turn you over to the Ishapians, and he didn't order you hung, did he?"

Graves smiled. "Well, there is that."

They walked back to James's quarters, where they would fetch Limm and Kat and return to the dungeon below. Far from comfortable, it was still one of the safest places in Krondor. If any place in Krondor could be considered safe these days, James thought to himself.

ELEVEN - Stealth

The Rainbow Parrot was empty.

At this hour of the morning, no one was drinking. James yelled out, "Lucas!"

William glanced around and was rewarded a moment later when Talia entered from the kitchen. "William!" she said with obvious pleasure. "James," she added, her smile fading only slightly. "Father is hauling refuse down to the river for dumping. He'll be back any moment if you'd like to wait."

William smiled and said, "Thank you."

James grabbed William's elbow and stopped him from sitting. "If I don't miss my guess, Talia needs to shop in the market this morning, don't you, Talia?"

Her smile brightened as she said, "Why, yes, as a matter of fact. I was going to leave as soon as Father returns."

"Why don't you escort her to the market, William, as I have some private matters to discuss with her father?"

William almost fell over a chair getting around James to offer his arm to Talia. "If you have no objection?" he asked.

She slipped her arm through his gracefully and said, "No, I'm pleased to have the company." Looking at James, she said, "You don't mind being left alone, squire?"

James said, "No, a few minutes of peace will be welcome." Her expression turned quizzical and he added quickly, "Things at the palace have been very frantic of late, what with visiting n.o.bles and all."

Her smile broadened. "Oh, yes. I heard an eastern n.o.ble was staying at the palace." Turning her back on James as she gazed up at William, she said, "You must tell me all about it."

From behind Talia, James shook his head slightly, indicating that William most certainly should not not tell her all about it. He said, "I'm sure William can remember what the ladies of the eastern courts were wearing, Talia." tell her all about it. He said, "I'm sure William can remember what the ladies of the eastern courts were wearing, Talia."

William allowed himself to be led outside, and James sat down to wait for Lucas. He didn't wait long, for as good as Talia's promise, Lucas appeared a few minutes later, entering the inn from the rear door. "Talia!" he shouted; then he saw James sitting alone.

"Where's my girl?"

"She's gone to market with William. I told her I'd watch the place until you returned."

Lucas fixed James with a baleful look, and said, "You're up to something, Jimmy. I've known you too many years not to know that. What is it?"

James rose and came to lean on the bar beside Lucas. "Something awkward, Lucas. I wish to ask you a question, but I can't until I've sworn you to secrecy."

Lucas was silent for a moment, rubbing his chin as he considered his answer. "Can't rightly do that, until I know what's what. I've got obligations, as I'm sure you well know."

James knew well indeed. Lucas was one of few successful innkeepers in Krondor who didn't have the patronage of a powerful n.o.ble, a guild, or the Mockers. Over the years he had managed to make several useful alliances, including friendships with several highly-placed n.o.bles in the Kingdom. James he knew from his dealings with the Mockers, yet Lucas had somehow resisted becoming their tool, or coming under their domination. There was something very stubborn in the old man's nature, and it was known without saying that as soon as anyone tried to control him, Lucas could call upon other resources. Ultimately, it was easier to work with Lucas than to try to coerce him.

James had rehea.r.s.ed his speech several times, and after taking a deep breath, he began. "We both know the Mockers are no longer a major force. And we both know that someone else- this Crawler-is trying to tie up all the dodges and capers in Krondor."

Lucas nodded.

"We also know that, as far as anyone can judge, the Upright Man is dead."

Lucas smiled. "Don't be so quick. He's a cagey one. Maybe the Upright Man's dead or maybe he's just lying low."

James said, "Perhaps, but if he's lying low he's as good as dead, because he's let the Mockers come to a messy end."

"Maybe, or maybe it just seems that way."

James grinned. "Anyone ever tell you you're a pain to talk to?"

"Yup," said Lucas. "Not too many, though."

"Look, I need . . . well-placed friends."

Lucas laughed. "Well, start with the Prince of Krondor, boy. I can't imagine anyone better placed than him."

"I mean well-placed within within Krondor. People who are in a position to hear things." Krondor. People who are in a position to hear things."

Lucas was silent as he weighed James's words carefully, then he spoke: "Over the years I've made it a business to be very hard of hearing most of the time, Jimmy. It's why lots of people are comfortable doing business with me. There are them that wants to move cargo without having to deal with the Prince's customs men or the Mockers' fences, and I know the occasional caravan driver heading inland.

"There are those that need to speak to others who want to kill them on sight, and I can sometimes get them together without bloodshed. Things like that.

"But all that goes to naught if anyone thinks I've turned snitch."

James said, "I'm not looking for snitches, Lucas. I've got enough of those on every street corner. I need something more, someone I trust. I need good information, not rumors or lies fashioned to earn some coppers. Moreover, I need someone, after all is said and done, who is my man, no matter what he's telling other people." He looked at Lucas and said, "I think you understand what I'm saying."

Lucas was thoughtful for a moment. Then he sighed and said, "Sorry, but I could never be no man's spy, Jimmy. That's too dodgy a path, even for the likes of me." He moved away and went behind the bar. "But I'll tell you this. I'll never work against the Crown. I was once a soldier and my boys died for the Kingdom. So, you have my word on that. And if I catch a hint of anything like that, well, let's say I'll make sure you find out quick. How's that?"

James said, "It'll have to do."

"Would you like an ale?"

James laughed. "It's still a little early for that. I'll just take my leave. When Talia and William return, tell Will to return to the garrison and report in, will you?"

Lucas said, "About that young fellow . . ."

"Yes?"

"He's a good sort, right?"

James said, "Yes, he's a good sort."

Lucas nodded, then picked up a rag and started polishing his bar. "Just that . . . well, like I told you, Talia's all I've got left. Want to see she's done right by, if you see what I mean."

"I see what you mean," said James, grinning. "If any one will do right by her, William will."

Lucas glanced up. "Father's a duke, you said?"

James laughed and departed, waving good-bye to Lucas.

William felt flushed and a little giddy, and couldn't quite decide if he was in love or just overtired. He'd had numerous conversations with his parents on the subject of men and women and their relationships, as well as hearing plenty of opinions from the academy students at Stardock as he grew up. In many ways he was far more acquainted with the theory of romance than many young men his age, but far less practiced than most.

As Talia chattered on about the current gossip, he tried to keep interested, but his mind wandered. He had known girls all his life, starting with his adopted sister Gamina. But while he had had many female friends as a boy, he had only thought himself in love once before.

He tried to push the image of Jazhara aside, and the more he tried, the more vivid she became in his mind. Four years older than William, she had come to study at Stardock when he was eleven years old. That had been half a lifetime ago, he realized.

She had been aloof at first, a Keshian of n.o.ble birth who had eventually put up with his childhood infatuation with good grace and even, occasionally, flattered amus.e.m.e.nt. Then the year before he left for Krondor, things had changed. He was no longer an awkward boy, but a strong and intelligent young man and for a brief time his interest in her was returned. Their affair had been stormy, intense, and ultimately painful for William.

It had ended badly, and he was still unclear as to what had made their relationship so rocky, and until he had learned that she was being sent to Krondor he had thought he might never discover the reasons why she had pushed him away. Now he considered the prospect of meeting her again with dread and some excitement.

"You're not listening." Talia's voice penetrated his reverie.

"Sorry," he said with a smile. "I haven't had much sleep the past couple of nights." When she frowned, he quickly added, "Business of the Crown."

She smiled and held onto his arm as they approached the market. "Well, enjoy the sunshine and we'll just pretend the Prince and his business are very far away. And promise me you'll get a good night's sleep, all right?"

"I'll see what I can do," William replied. He looked at the young woman's profile as she stopped to inspect produce that had come into the city that morning.

She pointed to a pile of large golden onions and said, "I'll take six of those."

While she and the seller haggled a little, William found his thoughts returning to the differences between Talia and Jazhara. Jazhara was Keshian, from desert stock, and darkly exotic by Kingdom standards. She was a magician of some skill and great potential, and as fit as any fighter he had ever known. He knew from first-hand experience that she could crack your skull with a quarterstaff as quickly as conjure up a spell, and she was better educated than any woman he had met-she spoke a dozen languages and dialects, knew the history both of her own homeland and the Kingdom, and could discourse on sciences, the course of the stars, and the mysteries of the G.o.ds.

Talia by contrast was a sunny, open person, full of humor and grace. She turned to catch William staring at her and said, "What?"

He smiled back. "Just thinking that you are as pretty a girl as I've ever seen."

She blushed. "Flatterer."

He felt suddenly embarra.s.sed by the comment and said, "Tell me about. . . where you grew up. You said you were raised by an order of. . . ?"

She smiled as she handed over four coins to the seller and put the onions in her shopping basket. "I was raised by an order of the Sisters of Kahooli."

William almost let his mouth fall open. Then: "Kahooli!" he exclaimed.

Several shoppers nearby turned to see who had invoked the name of the G.o.d of Vengeance.