Читать книгу The Complete Darkwar Trilogy: Flight of the Night Hawks, Into a Dark Realm, Wrath of a Mad God - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 21

TAL FEIGNED PATIENCE.

Petro Amafi stood at his master’s right arm, once again playing the role of dutiful manservant to Tal’s bored Kingdom noble. Far in the distance he could make out Kaspar, now using the name André Comté du Bassillon, from the Duke’s court in Bas-Tyra.

Like all visiting nobility, he was honour bound to present himself to the Imperial court upon arrival in Great Kesh. Emperor Diigai was too busy, of course, to see them: Kaspar, now a low-level functionary, despite carrying marques from the King of the Isles naming him trade envoy plenipotentiary, and Talwin Hawkins, minor noble and Champion of the Masters’ Court in Roldem, were simply not of sufficient rank to warrant taking up any part of the old Emperor’s time.

They would be greeted in turn by a minor functionary of the court, one of sufficient rank to not slight visitors, but not of high enough rank to give them too high an opinion of their status. As Kaspar had explained to Talwin before they had left Roldem together, while Roldem considered itself the cultural centre of the Sea of Kingdoms, Kesh viewed itself as the virtual centre of the known world, with some justification.

It was historically the most powerful nation on the entire world of Midkemia, and only the constant issue of keeping the southern vassal states, the so-called ‘Keshian Confederacy’, under control prevented the Empire from extending its borders further. Two hundred years earlier a revolt in the south had allowed the northern province of Bosania, now split into the Duchy of Crydee and the Free Cities of Natal, and the island province of Queg, to break free of the Empire.

Currently Roldem’s navy was combined with the Kingdom of the Isles’ great Eastern Fleet, supported by a loose agreement among the small eastern Kingdoms to come to one another’s aid against any Keshian incursion, which kept the Empire contained in the east.

In the west, it was the Kingdom’s Western Fleet and the navy of the Empire of Queg, plus the economic strength of the Free Cities of Natal that had kept Kesh in check. So for the time being the political landscape over the entire continent of Triagia was stable for the first time in centuries. Which meant that the fighting now ran along economic and political lines, a great deal less overt, but no less nasty and dangerous than a military confrontation.

Talwin was doing his part to ensure that the stability presently being enjoyed by the citizens of all nations continued: it was clearly to their enemy’s advantage to see chaos descend in the region.

Tal noticed Kaspar trying to catch his eye and whispered to Amafi, ‘Go and see what Lord André needs.’

Petro Amafi, one-time assassin and betrayer of both men, quickly moved forwards past the others who were waiting quietly in the anteroom to the presentation hall.

There was a rough pattern to where people chose to stand, for everyone coming to be presented to the Emperor’s court had some sense of where they were likely to be in the order of those called. Near the door waited those of sufficient rank to be almost worthy enough to be presented directly to the Emperor: minor princes from distant lands, nobles who were related by blood to royalty, and envoys of lower than the rank of ambassador.

Kaspar had once enjoyed higher status, since he had been the ruler of the Duchy of Olasko. It was more than five years since he had last visited Kesh on a state visit, and he doubted many would recognize him – though he was occasionally given a second glance by one functionary or another who seemed to think that Kaspar was someone who they should know but didn’t quite remember. He was by his own estimate at least thirty pounds lighter than he had been when ruler of Olasko. A year of hard living and less than bountiful food, followed by a strict regimen of strenuous training and light eating had kept him slim. Instead of the closely cut beard he had once sported, he was now clean shaven, and he had let his hair grow to his shoulders. With clothing bought from the most fashionable tailor in Bas-Tyra, he looked entirely like a gentleman of that court.

‘Master Talwin asks what it is you need, Magnificence?’ said Amafi when he reached Kaspar’s side.

With a slight nod of his head, Kaspar said, ‘Tell the Squire I may be indisposed. I believe I may have been recognized.’

Amafi turned around inconspicuously, as if to talk to Pasko, the old agent who had served as one of Talon’s early teachers. Speaking of nothing of note, Amafi let his eyes sweep the room, not lingering long enough to establish eye contact with anyone, but still managing to identify every potential threat. Smiling, he turned back to Kaspar and said, ‘I assume my lord is referring to the minor functionary standing near that small door on the right?’

‘Actually, it was the man who spoke to him a moment ago before disappearing through that door,’ said Kaspar. ‘The other fellow is merely keeping an eye on me, I suspect.’

‘I will convey to my master your concerns,’ said Amafi. ‘If we do not see you at the rendezvous this evening, we shall assume the worst.’

With a bland expression and a forced smile, Kaspar said, ‘You do that, Amafi.’

Pasko said, ‘Convey word to those who might care about such things.’

Amafi nodded. Pasko, a dour man of middle years, had been dispatched by the Conclave to keep a close watch on Kaspar. The former Duke of Olasko had earned a great deal of good will by carrying word to the Conclave of the threat from the Dasati the year before, but he was still not entirely trusted. So, Pasko kept an eye on Kaspar, while Talwin watched Amafi.

The plan was straightforward: the Conclave had sent three groups of agents – Kaspar and Pasko, Tal and Amafi, and Caleb and the boys – to the City of Kesh. Kaspar, as a minor envoy, would have access to many key government ministers and functionaries; Tal would be able to move easily through the social circles of the minor Keshian nobility: as a past Champion of the Masters’ Court and with his reputation as a womanizer and gambler he would have no shortage of social invitations. Caleb and the boys would be able to negotiate their way through the common citizenry of the Empire, from honest labourers to criminals. It was hoped that by using three different sets of agents some clue could be uncovered as to the whereabouts of the leader of the Nighthawks. And Pug hoped through one of these channels that he would learn the whereabouts of his old enemy, Leso Varen.

Amafi relayed Kaspar’s message to Tal, who said, ‘If we are separated and questioned, you know what to say.’

‘Yes, Magnificence,’ replied the grey-haired assassin. ‘You have met the Comté on a number of occasions in Bas-Tyra and elsewhere. You have even played cards with him, and you were pleased to discover yourselves travelling on the same boat from Caralién to Kesh. We travelled by land from Pointer’s Head to Ishlana, then by river boat. The Comté said he had come from Rillanon, so I assume he came by land from Deep Taunton to Jonril then by boat to Caralién. It was a most fortuitous happenstance as the Comté is convivial company.’ With an evil smile, he added, ‘And an indifferent card player.’

‘Don’t overdo it,’ said Tal. ‘But if they assume I’m staying close to him to cheat him at cards, they will perhaps not suspect that we are plotting together.’

‘A small bad intention is often far more easily believed than a big one, Magnificence,’ whispered Amafi. ‘Once I avoided the gallows by merely claiming to have entered a certain house to have a dalliance with the man’s wife instead of attempting to kill him. The woman vigorously denied it, but the odd thing was, the louder she claimed it wasn’t so, the more the authorities believed it was. I was put in a cell, from which I escaped a few days later; the man beat his wife, causing her brother to kill him in a duel, and I collected my fee for the man’s death, despite the fact I had not placed one finger upon him. I did, however, revisit the wife to console her, and found her behaviour clearly demonstrated why the constables were inclined to believe me and not her.’ With a half-wistful look, he added, ‘Grief made her ardent.’

Tal chuckled. There had been several times in their relationship when he would have happily murdered Amafi, and he was certain there had been more than one occasion when the former assassin would have killed him for the right price, but at some odd point along the way he had become fond of the rogue.

His feelings for Kaspar were a great deal more complex. The man had been responsible for the wholesale destruction of his entire people, and but for a freak act of fate Tal Hawkins, once Talon of the Silver Hawk, would have been dead along with the majority of the Orosini.

Yet Kaspar was now an ally, another agent working for the Conclave of Shadows. And Tal understood how many of Kaspar’s murderous decisions had been made under the influence of the Conclave’s most dangerous enemy, the magician named Leso Varen. Yet even without Varen’s influence, Kaspar could be a cold-hearted, unforgiving bastard. Yet even when he had served Kaspar with the intent of betraying him to revenge his people, there was something about Kaspar Tal admired. He found himself in the confusing situation of knowing he would give his life to save Kaspar against their common enemies, but that in other circumstances, he would happily kill the man.

‘You look lost in thought, Magnificence. Is something troubling you?’

‘Nothing more than the usual, Amafi. I find the gods have an evil sense of humour, sometimes.’

‘That is true, Magnificence. My father, an occasionally wise man, once said that we were blessed only when the gods remained ignorant of us.’

Tal’s gaze returned to Kaspar. ‘Something’s happening.’

Amafi turned to see a minor court official speaking to Kaspar, and after a moment, Kaspar and Pasko followed him through the small side door Kaspar had mentioned to Amafi. Tal sighed. ‘Well, now we shall see if our plans fall apart before they begin.’

‘Let us hope the gods are ignoring us today, Magnificence.’

Kaspar was led by a very polite functionary through a long series of corridors. He was taken by side passages around the smaller reception hall used for greeting visiting dignitaries towards the suite of offices reserved for the higher ranking government officials.

The palace of the Emperor occupied the entire upper half of a great plateau that overlooked the Overn Deep and the lower city at the foot of the tableland. Ages before, Keshian rulers had constructed a massive fortress on top of this prominence, a highly defensible position to protect their small city below. Over the centuries the original fortress had been added to, reconstructed and expanded, until the entire top of the plateau was covered. Tunnels extended down into the soil, some leading into the lower city. It was like nothing so much as a hive, Kaspar thought. And as a result he rarely knew where he was. Of course, before this particular journey he never had to worry about getting lost, because as a visiting ruler, he had always had an attentive Keshian noble or bureaucrat to see to his needs.

Kaspar understood the organization of the Keshian government as well as any foreigner could, and he knew that this nation, more than any other on Midkemia, was controlled by bureaucracy, a system that had endured longer than any ruling dynasty. Kings might give edicts and princes command armies, but if the edicts were not handed down to the populace no one obeyed them, and if orders to move food and supplies around weren’t forthcoming, the prince’s army quickly starved to death in the field, or mutinied.

On more than one occasion, Kaspar had been thankful his duchy was relatively small and tidy by comparison. He could name every functionary in the citadel that had served as his home for most of his life. Here he doubted the Emperor could name even those servants who worked in his personal apartment.

They reached a large office, and Pasko was instructed to wait on a stone bench outside. Kaspar was motioned through a door into an even larger room, one that was an odd mix of opulence and functionality. In the middle of the room sat a large table, behind which rested a man on a chair. Once powerful, he had gone to fat, though there was still ample muscle under that fat. Kaspar knew that there was a shrewd and dangerous mind in that old man’s head. He wore the traditional garb of a Trueblood: a linen kilt around his hips bound by a woven silk belt, cross-gartered sandals on his feet, and a bare chest. He also wore an impressive array of jewellery, mostly gold and gems, though there were some interesting polished stones among the dozen or so chains he had around his neck. These stood in stark contrast against his night-black skin. He regarded Kaspar with eyes so dark brown they looked sable, and then he smiled, his white teeth dramatic in contrast to his face.

‘Kaspar,’ he said in a friendly tone. ‘You look different, my friend. I’d say better, if you think that not overstepping the mark.’ He waved the escort outside, then with a motion of his hand ordered the two guards by the door to go as well, leaving Kaspar alone with him.

Kaspar nodded slightly. ‘Turgan Bey, Lord of the Keep, why am I not surprised?’

‘You seriously didn’t think the former Duke of Olasko could sneak into the Empire without our notice, did you?’

‘One can hope,’ said Kaspar.

Lord Turgan indicated that Kaspar should take a seat. ‘Comté Andre?’ He looked at something written on a piece of parchment. ‘I must confess it took a great deal of self-control not to have you picked up at the border, but I was interested in seeing just what you were up to. Had you sneaked into the city or met with known insurgents or smugglers this would all make sense. But instead you submit a petition to present yourself as a trade envoy plenipotentiary from the Duke of Bas-Tyra’s court? And then you walk in here and stand around like … like I don’t know what.’

The still-powerful-looking old man drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment, then added, ‘So, if you have a reason why I shouldn’t throw you and that servant of yours into the Overn to feed the crocodiles I’d love to hear it. Maybe I’ll toss in your friend Hawkins as well.’

Kaspar sat back. ‘Hawkins and I play cards, and I think he cheats. Nothing more. I thought perhaps arriving with a famous squire of the Kingdom might give me a little more credibility.’

‘Or get the youngster killed before his time.’ Turgan Bey chuckled. ‘You think for a minute I don’t know that Talwin Hawkins was in your service for over two years? Or that I don’t know he was key to your overthrow? But here you are, in my own keep acting as if you’re casual travellers idling the time away with meaningless card games.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t say that I hold you in any affection, Kaspar. You’ve always been someone we watched because of all the mischief you caused, but as long as you confined yourself to your own little corner of the world, we didn’t much care. And, to be fair, you’ve always honoured your treaties with Kesh.

‘But as you are no longer ruler of Olasko, certain political niceties need no longer be observed. And since you’re attempting to enter the palace under a false identity, can we safely assume you’re a spy?’

‘You may,’ said Kaspar with a smile. ‘And I have something for you.’ He reached into his tunic and pulled out the black Nighthawk amulet. He slid it across the table to Turgan and waited while the old minister picked it up and examined it.

‘Where did you get this?’

‘From a friend of a friend, who got it from Lord Erik von Darkmoor.’

‘That’s a name to make a Keshian general lose sleep. He’s cost us dearly a couple of times at the border.’

‘Well, if your frontier commanders didn’t get the urge to conquer in the name of their Emperor without instruction from your central authority, you’d have less problems with von Darkmoor.’

‘We don’t necessarily send our brightest officers to the western frontier,’ Turgan Bey sighed. ‘We save those to build up our own factions here in the capital. Politics will be the death of me yet.’ He tapped his finger on the amulet. ‘What do you make of this?’

‘Keshian nobles are dying.’

‘That happens a lot,’ said Turgan Bey with a smile. ‘We have a lot of nobles. You can’t toss a barley cake from a vendor’s cart in the lower city without hitting a noble. Comes from having a vigorous breeding population for several thousand years.’

‘Truebloods are dying, too.’

Turgan Bey lost his smile. ‘That should not have been apparent to von Darkmoor. He must have better spies than I gave him credit for. Now, this still leads me to wonder why the former Duke of Olasko has wandered into my city, into my very palace, to hand me this. Who sent you? Duke Rodoski?’

‘Hardly,’ said Kaspar. ‘My brother-in-law would just as soon see my head adorn the drawbridge leading into his citadel as he would see it across the dinner table. Only his love for my sister keeps it on my shoulders; that and staying far away from Olasko.’

‘Then von Darkmoor sent you?’ said Bey, his brow furrowing.

‘I’ve only met the esteemed Knight-Marshal of Krondor once, some years ago, and then we spoke only for a moment.’

Bey’s gaze narrowed. ‘Who sent you, Kaspar?’

‘One who reminds you that not only enemies hide in shadows,’ said Kaspar.

Turgan Bey stood up and said, ‘Come with me.’

He led Kaspar though a chamber that appeared to be a more comfortable working area with a pair of writing desks for scribes, as well as a large divan chair which could comfortably accommodate him. He motioned Kaspar to step out onto a balcony overlooking a lush garden three storeys below and at last said, ‘Now I can be certain no one is listening.’

‘You don’t trust your own guards?’

‘I do, but when members of the Imperial family, no matter how distantly related they may be, start turning up dead, I don’t trust anyone.’ He glanced at Kaspar. ‘Nakor sent you?’

‘Indirectly,’ said Kaspar.

‘My father told me the story of the first time that crazy Isalani showed up in the palace. He and the Princes Borric and Erland, as well as Lord James – he was a baronet or baron back then I believe – kept the Empress alive and arranged it so that Diigai would sit upon the throne after her by marrying her granddaughter to him. They defended her in the very Imperial throne room! Against murderers who wished to put that fool Awari on the throne. From that day forward my father had a different attitude towards the Kingdom. And he told the story of how Nakor pulled that hawk from his bag and restored the mews here in the palace.’ Leaning back, he added, ‘It was a remarkable day. So you can imagine my surprise the first time Nakor turned up at my father’s estate up in Geansharna – I must have been about fifteen years old.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘That crazy Isalani has been surprising me ever since. I won’t ask how you came to work with him, but if he’s sent you, there must be good reason.’

‘There is. I had in my employ, or so I thought, a magician by the name of Leso Varen. It turns out he was partially to blame for some of my excesses over the last few years before I was exiled.’

Bey began to speak, thought better of it, and Kaspar continued. ‘If at some point you’d care to listen to a detailed appraisal of what I did and why, I’ll burden you with it, but for now suffice it to say that Varen may be at the centre of your current troubles, and if that is true, then there is more at risk than merely a bloodier-than-usual game of Keshian politics.

‘If what Nakor thinks is true, then the entire region may become destabilized and we might see a lot of needless warfare.’

Bey stood motionless for a moment, then said, ‘Who else knows you are here?’

‘Hawkins, of course,’ said Kaspar. ‘Nakor, the men with us, and a few other agents of the Conclave up in the north, but no one here in Kesh besides yourself.’ He thought better of revealing Caleb’s role in this; it was always better to have a few things held back against the risk of being compromised.

‘This is going to be a problem,’ said Turgan Bey. ‘Several of my agents know, and while I like to think they are all above suspicion, history teaches otherwise. So, how do we take this situation and turn it to our advantage?’

‘Political asylum?’

Bey was silent for a while, then he said, ‘That may serve. Then we could not only not worry about your forged documents – I assume they’re the best?’

‘Impeccable.’

‘No one will bother examining them. We can say this all was a ruse to get you safely away from … well, make up a list, Kaspar. There are a lot of people who would love to see you dead.’

‘As much as it pains me,’ said Kaspar, ‘I’m forced to concede that is true.’

‘So, we need a few details to embellish the tale, but let’s say this: despite your brother-in-law’s promises to your sister to spare you, his agents are out and about, seeking to bring you to a quick demise. Fleeing Olasko, you have come to the one place left to you where you might find safe harbour, Great Kesh. Is that about right?’

‘It will bear scrutiny,’ Kaspar conceded. ‘Rodoski is a man of his word, but few will bother to remember that, and I did promise to leave Olasko.’

‘I’ll find someone to sponsor you, Kaspar. It can’t be me. The Master of the Keep is the last vestige of protection the throne has, and if what I suspect is true, that throne is soon to be under attack.

‘The Emperor uses magic to prolong his life, and is now over one hundred years of age. A number of those in the Gallery of Lords and Masters long to see a change. The Emperor’s sons are dead and his daughters are long past bearing new heirs.’

‘Who stands to inherit?’

‘Sezioti, the eldest son of the Emperor’s eldest son, but he’s not a charismatic leader. His younger brother, Dangai, is very popular. He’s a brilliant hunter – and you know as well as any how important that is to the Trueblood – and has been a warrior, and he now oversees the Inner Legion, which is a very powerful position in the Empire.

‘Sezioti is a scholar, and while he’s well liked, he’s not seen as a natural leader. But he has the support of the Master of Horses, Lord Semalcar, and the Leader of the Royal Charioteers, Lord Rawa, which is more than a match in influence for the Inner Legion.’

‘In short, you once more have a divided Gallery of Lords and Masters and a wholesale civil war is not out of the question.’

‘I’m sorry to say that is a possibility,’ said Turgan Bey.

‘I think we have common cause,’ said Kaspar.

‘Apparently we do,’ said Bey. ‘I’ll have quarters made up for you and see about finding someone who can sponsor you to see the Emperor. Trust me, it will be pro forma by the time you appear before His Majesty.’ He paused. ‘But what do we do about Hawkins?’

‘Leave him about his business for the time being. Just do what you would have done had he arrived without me.’

‘Well enough,’ said Bey. ‘I’ll have your servant sent for, and in a day or two we’ll start to see what good you can be to us.’

‘More than the safety of the Empire rests on this, I should remind you,’ said Kaspar. ‘I may not be welcome in Olasko, but I love my nation and my sister, whom I cherish beyond anyone on this world, and her family are there. A war down here that spills over the borders brings threat to them. Civil war in Kesh can easily breed regional instability.’

Kaspar thought it best not to mention the Talnoy and the risk from the Dasati. Bey had enough on his mind already.

Bey nodded. ‘I long for simpler times, Kaspar, when all I had to worry about were fractious rebels in the south or ambitious Kingdom generals to the north.’ He waved Kaspar away and added, ‘Border wars are so much less complex than all this magic, intrigue, and secret alliances. Rest well. We’ll speak again soon.’

Kaspar followed a servant to his new quarters and was pleased to see they were fit for royalty. Seven rooms comprised his apartment, complete with servants – some of whom were astonishingly lovely young women, all wearing the traditional Trueblood garb, the same linen kilt and bare chest affected by the men, with a torque of rank around their throat.

When Pasko arrived, he found Kaspar sitting on a divan, nibbling at a platter of fruit while two beautiful young women stood by awaiting his instructions. The former teacher of Talon of the Silver Hawk and long-time agent for the Conclave said, ‘Did all go as planned?’

‘As we expected,’ said Kaspar. ‘Lord Bey is everything we were told he would be.’

Both men looked around at their opulent surroundings. Kaspar glanced at one of the girls, who smiled back at him warmly. He then looked at Pasko and said, ‘Had I thought it would turn out like this, I would have asked for political asylum long ago.’