Читать книгу The Complete Darkwar Trilogy: Flight of the Night Hawks, Into a Dark Realm, Wrath of a Mad God - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 28

THE DOOR SWUNG OPEN.

Tad, Zane and Jommy all looked up from their dozing, fitful attempt at resting. A girl about the same age as the lads entered the room carrying a small kettle, a stack of bowls and under her arm, a wrapped bundle.

The three boys stood up and gave her access to the table. When she had put down her burdens, she unwrapped the bundle to display half a loaf of bread and a small wheel of cheese. ‘My father told me to bring these to you,’ she said in a low whisper. She was plump with a pretty smile, big brown eyes and long dark hair.

Jommy handed the utensils around. He shared out the soup and the girl went to look at Caleb. ‘He’s lost a lot of blood,’ she observed, ‘but his colour looks better than last night and he’s breathing well. If he wakes up, give him something to eat.’ She glanced into the kettle and said, ‘Which means leaving some of this for him, all right?’

Tad nodded and tried to talk with a mouth full of cheese. Zane said, ‘Thank you.’

Jommy said, ‘Miss, do you know what we’re supposed to do next?’

She glanced around the room and said, ‘Wait,’ then closed the door.

Kaspar hurried through the halls of the palace with Pasko at his heels. It was barely first light, yet the summons had come nearly a quarter hour earlier. He had dressed without the benefit of a bath or shave and had become very used to the Keshian practice of consuming large mugs of hot coffee in the morning with the meal and after.

He reached the office of Turgan Bey who waved him into a chair and motioned for Pasko to wait outside. The Conclave agent posing as a manservant, bowed and left the room, while Bey’s clerk closed the doors.

‘Coffee?’ asked Bey, indicating a large earthenware carafe sitting on the table next to two mugs.

Kaspar poured himself some of the hot, bitter, habit-forming drink and said, ‘Thank you. I’ve become accustomed to it in the mornings since I’ve been here.’

Bey smiled. ‘It may be even more addictive than some of the drugs you buy in the market.’ He motioned for Kaspar to follow him to the balcony overlooking the garden.

The night sky had given way to the soft grey light of dawn, with rose and silver hues foreshadowing the bright blue sky to come. It would be another hot day as the Empire approached the Midsummer festival of Banapis. Kaspar had come to expect the nights to be hot and the days to be hotter. If he didn’t think that he’d look ridiculous in Keshian garb, he would have already sent Pasko out for a linen kilt and a set of sandals.

Softly, Bey said, ‘There was some bloody work afoot last night, Kaspar.’

Kaspar said, ‘I’ve heard nothing.’

‘You’re hearing it now,’ said Bey.

‘Who died?’

‘For certain, Prince Nauka.’

Kaspar said, ‘The Emperor’s great-nephew?’

‘The same, and a staunch supporter of Sezioti.’ Bey shook his head and blew out a long breath as if he was trying to release his frustration. ‘Here’s the maddening part of it; I know that Dangai is behind this.’

‘You’re certain he’s not being used by others?’

‘When Leikesha was ruler, her son Awari was being used as a dupe by One Whose Name Is Forgotten.’

Kaspar nodded. He knew enough recent Keshian history to know that as part of his punishment for treason, Lord Niromi’s name was removed from every historical reference, and all Keshian families were now forbidden from ever naming a child Niromi.

Bey continued. ‘Dangai is no one’s dupe. He has taken complete control of the Inner Legion and if things come to a bad pass, we may even see a repeat of the last attempt to seize the throne, when Empress Leikesha’s Guards battled the Inner Legion in this very palace.’

He looked out at the garden for a moment, then turned to face Kaspar again. ‘Do you know that over one thousand officers of the Inner Legion were cast into the Overn? The crocodiles feasted for months.’ He sighed. ‘However, this time I do not know if the Palace Guard would stand against the Legion, for Sezioti is not a popular figure. Respected, yes, and even liked somewhat, but he’s not popular.’

‘Why all the bloodletting? Why not a straight appeal to the Gallery of Lords and Masters? From everything I’ve heard, it seems that Dangai would carry the day.’

‘Because we are a nation of traditions, if not of laws.’ He looked at Kaspar and said, ‘We have no tradition like the Great Freedom as they do in the Kingdom of the Isles, and here there is no confirmation of the King by the Congress of Lords. If the Emperor, blessings upon him, names Sezioti as his heir, then Sezioti is the next Emperor, or at least he will sit upon the throne until Dangai seizes it by removing his brother’s head from his shoulders.

‘But I need proof, Kaspar. I need some evidence that not only is Dangai behind this, but that he is also in league with those enemies only a few of us know exist: Varen and his Nighthawks.’

‘What can I do to help?’

‘Much more than the death of Prince Nauka occurred last night. The Mistress of Luck is a gambling hall located atop Summer Winds Hill – one of the better districts in the city – it’s also a brothel, and last night several strange things occurred there. Talwin Hawkins disappeared. He went upstairs with two whores, and was followed soon after by two men, one of them Talwin’s so-called servant, the old assassin Petro Amafi, and some time soon after that, the two girls came down alone, invited some drunken louts out and left. The room upstairs was empty, save that a cord from a curtain-sash hung from the window.

‘We can surmise that Hawkins avoided a trap of some sort. But I want to know who the mysterious man who went up the stairs before Amafi was. And where has Talwin Hawkins and Petro Amafi taken him?’

Kaspar said, ‘I have no idea.’

‘Well, I suspect your man Pasko might have some means of getting word to him.’

‘I’ll have him go about it as soon as we’re done here.’

‘I have two masters, Kaspar. I serve those whom you serve, because I believe their cause is just and in the long term your objectives also aid my other master, the Emperor. I can best serve by bringing proof of a plot to him. Not guesses, not vague circumstances, but proof.

‘The other matter is that last night word reached me of an assault at an inn called the Three Willows, owned by a former Kingdom citizen by name of Pablo Maguire. A trader from the Vale of Dreams was in residence, a man of vague nationality, seeming both Keshian and Kingdom, and with him were three boys, apprentices apparently. The master was away on business, and the boys were eating their supper when an altercation broke out.

‘Why these three lads were singled out is uncertain, but it is clear that there’s more going on than meets the eye.’ Bey looked at Kaspar. ‘This Maguire isn’t another of your agents, is he?’

‘I’m like you, Turgan; I only get told what I need to know, and no more.’

The large old man let out a deep sigh. ‘I understand why our masters act as they do, but I must confess that it annoys me no end to have other agents – potential allies – close at hand and be ignorant of them.’

‘It’s all to a purpose,’ said Kaspar. ‘You can’t divulge what you don’t know.’

‘Then send your man to wherever he must be sent and start spreading the word: I need proof of Dangai’s duplicity, and I need it soon, or Kesh may be plunged into a civil war.’

‘What have your own agents found?’

Turgan Bey flexed his hands in frustration. ‘I can not trust more than a handful of those who are purportedly in my service – too many alliances have been formed and reformed around the succession.

‘The Banapis Celebration begins in less than two weeks, and the city will be thronging with visitors. The Emperor is due to make what may be his last public appearance. He will address the Gallery of Lords and Masters and then stand on a balcony waving to the crowds below, though it is unlikely that they will be able to see him.

‘In short, if there is to be a coup d’état it will most likely happen then. The Inner Legion will be in the city, but the Royal Charioteers and the Imperial Army will not be.’

‘I’ll see what I can come up with. Any idea where Tal might have gone to ground?’

‘No. Talk to your man Pasko, or go to the Merry Juggler, the inn where he was staying. Track him down and see if he has found anything.

‘Talk to our friends in the north, too, do whatever it takes, Kaspar. Help me keep this Empire intact, and if your brother-in-law won’t have you back in Olasko, I’ll see that Sezioti makes you a prince of the Empire.’

Kaspar smiled. ‘Thanks, but my appetite for power seems to be a thing of the past. I find that working on behalf of our friends in the north gives me ample cause for rising each morning, and no man can ask more than that.’ He bowed and left the room.

He signalled to Pasko who was waiting quietly on a bench outside the room, and the old servant fell into step with him. ‘I’m going to an inn called the Merry Juggler. You go wherever you need to go if unexpected trouble occurs. Something went sour last night, and our friends have gone to ground … assuming they haven’t got themselves killed.’ Lowering his voice, he said, ‘I need to speak to Tal and Caleb, and sooner is better than later.’

Pasko nodded and hurried off, turning down a corridor that would eventually take him to the lower city via the servants’ entrance. Kaspar hurried to the office of the Keeper of the Imperial Household, to request that a mount be readied for him as soon as possible. He wondered if he could find another mug of coffee somewhere, and perhaps a bread roll or slice of ham to eat before he went riding out to confront chaos.

The warehouse was surrounded by guards loyal to the Conclave. Inside, Tal watched dispassionately as Amafi continued to question the assassin. It had taken a great deal of luck as well as skill to carry the unconscious man to a safe house, and they had barely reached this deserted warehouse before dawn.

But now they were secure, at least for a while, and the prisoner could make as much noise as he wished and no one would be the wiser. And despite his refusal to talk, he had been making a great deal of noise for over two hours.

Amafi turned away from the man, who had been bound by leather ties to a heavy wooden chair, which was in turn tied to a supporting-beam in the middle of the room. It had been necessary after he had tried to break his own skull against the dirt floor. Fortunately for Tal, all it had done was render the assassin unconscious for less than an hour.

Amafi said softly, ‘We have reached a place where both he and I must rest, Magnificence.’ With a jerk of his head, he indicated that Tal should walk with him to the far side of the warehouse.

When they were some distance from the prisoner, Amafi said, ‘Torture is an art form, Magnificence. Anyone can beat a man into insensibility. Anyone can inflict enough pain so that the prisoner becomes nearly mindless.’

‘Where are we with him?’

‘This man has been trained, Magnificence, and he is a fanatic. He would rather die in agony than betray his clan. So the trick is to convince him that the agony will be endless. Then he will talk.

‘But when he talks, he must also believe that the truth is his only escape from pain, from betrayal and from whatever drives his silence. For if he is too resilient, he will still speak lies. And if he is too damaged, he will just say whatever he thinks we wish to hear.’

Tal nodded. He took no enjoyment from watching Amafi inflict pain, but he had seen so much death and suffering since his childhood that it disturbed him only a little. He always remembered that those he opposed were at the heart of what had befallen his people – they had caused the near-obliteration of the Orosini. He also had a family in Opardum that would suffer, along with everyone else on Midkemia, should the Conclave fail.

‘What do we need to do?’

‘First, I need some of the men outside to cover the windows, so it is always dark in here. We must confuse his sense of time, so that he thinks he’s been here longer than he has. I should return to the inn and secure a change of clothing or two for us, so that we can confuse him about the passage of time that way too. Lastly, we need to bring in some food and wine – brandy would be better – so that we can soothe him when it becomes necessary.’

‘Do what you must.’

Amafi hurried out of the warehouse, and Tal walked over to where the semiconscious prisoner sat, befouled by blood and his own body-waste. Tal and he exchanged a long look, and neither man spoke.

Caleb groaned as he sat up. The boys had been trying to stay calm all day, but without any way to judge the passing of time in the small room, the minutes dragged by.

Tad and Zane had already reached the point of confrontation due to their frayed nerves, but Jommy had broken up the scuffle before it could really start.

The girl had returned with another meal and said, ‘It won’t be long before they’ll decide where to move you,’ but she would not stay with them or answer any more questions.

Now Caleb had recovered, the boys told him of what had happened at the Three Willows. He said, ‘So, we were not half as clever as we thought we were.’

‘Are you all right?’ asked Tad.

‘Not as bad as I look,’ said Caleb. ‘I took two cuts in the shoulder, but neither was deep. I got a slice across the scalp and although such wounds bleed like mad, it looks far worse than it is – and we were safely away when I slipped and don’t remember much, save some of the lads carrying—’ He glanced around. ‘Wherever are we?’

Tad told him and Caleb nodded. ‘Now, how did you lads get here?’

The boys told him about the four assassins, and Caleb said, ‘Had they meant you dead, you’d be dead. They were herding you so that you would lead them here.’ His voice showed his concern.

‘We lost them,’ said Jommy, with a grin. ‘I steered them into the Bakers’ Boys and like the bullies they are, they decided to have some fun with those assassins. I glanced back as we cleared the other side of the square and the Bakers’ Boys were doing a right job of stomping the two who chased us.’

I’m surprised the Bakers’ Boys aren’t all dead,’ said Caleb.

‘Surprise works wonders,’ said Jommy.

‘And stupidity. You could have got those boys killed, Jommy.’

Jommy lost his grin. ‘Well, I wasn’t expecting a “thank you,” for saving these two lads, but I didn’t except criticism. Would you rather it been us instead of them?’

Caleb put his hand up, signalling his surrender. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t there.’

‘What do we do now, Caleb?’ asked Tad.

‘I need to rest for a few more days, but not here. We’ve put these people in enough danger already. So, we need to find ourselves a place to hide out.’ He ran his hand through his long hair and found it matted with dried blood. ‘And I need to clean up.’

He sat, trying to catch his breath for a few minutes, then said, ‘I need to clean up.’

‘You said that already,’ said Zane.

Caleb nodded. ‘If they know where were are—’

‘They don’t,’ said Tad. ‘If they knew where we were, they’d have been here by now.’

‘Yes,’ said Caleb. ‘I … you’re right.’

Jommy said, ‘Why don’t you lie down again, mate? I’ll keep an eye on things.’

Caleb lay down, and within minutes he was asleep.

‘Well, then,’ said Jommy, ‘I think this is as good a time as any to ask why so many people want to kill us?’ He fixed Tad and Zane with a neutral expression and sat back in the single chair, waiting for an answer.

Two more meals came and went before Caleb roused again. The boys had judged the time to be mid-morning sometime when he sat up with a groan, and said, ‘My head must be broken.’

‘Not so’s we could see,’ answered Jommy. ‘Wait here.’ The older boy stood up and worked his way past Tad and Zane who were still sitting on the floor, and left the room.

‘Where’s he going?’ Caleb asked.

‘Don’t know,’ answered Zane. ‘Maybe to piss?’

‘You haven’t been outside, have you?’ asked Caleb as he stood up, using the back of the recently vacated chair as support.

‘No,’ said Tad. ‘They’ve got a chamber pot outside the door.’

The door opened. Jommy entered and set a porcelain bowl on the table. He pulled a folded towel out of it, and handed it to Caleb. He poured water into the bowl from a matching pitcher. ‘You said you needed to clean up,’ he said to Caleb.

Caleb pulled off his blood-splattered shirt and began to wash. Jommy said, ‘There’s fresh clothing for you, too. I’ll get ‘em.’

Jommy left and returned moments later with a clean shirt and a new hat. ‘You seemed to have lost your hat, Caleb, so I asked our host if he could find you a new one.’

‘Thanks,’ said Caleb. ‘It’ll help hide the mess.’

‘Now,’ said Zane. ‘We were talking about what to do next when you passed out last time, Caleb.’

‘I’m a little vague on what was said, but if I remember things correctly, you were almost taken by four men, right?’

‘That’s right,’ said Jommy. ‘And from what these two have told me, we’re hip-deep in crocs, and the swamp’s started to rise.’

‘What did you tell him?’ asked Caleb.

Tad and Zane exchanged glances, but it was Jommy who answered. ‘Enough to know that I’m either with you to the end or a dead man the second I try to leave the city, Caleb. I’m not sure I understand most of what they said, and I’ll leave it to you to fill me in on what you think I should know, but understand something about me, mate: I won’t let you down. You’ve treated me more than square, and you’ve fed me when all I did was keep these two from being treated like drums at a festival. Now, don’t blame the lads too much for telling me; I convinced them that if I was going to get myself killed, then I deserved to know why.’

Tad said, ‘It’s only fair, Caleb.’

Caleb looked at Jommy. ‘You’ve bought yourself a lot of danger.’

The boy from Novindus shrugged. ‘I’ve been in and out of danger ever since Rollie and me left home. It could easily have been me who died. So, what’s a little more danger? I figure you’re good blokes and if I’m going to throw my lot in with someone, it might as well be good blokes.

‘So, that’s settled. Now, where do we go from here?’

‘An inn not far away. I’ll need you,’ he pointed to Zane, ‘to go ahead of us. It’s not far and you shouldn’t have any trouble getting there; if they’re still out hunting, our enemies will be looking for three lads, not one. Your dark hair makes you the obvious choice to go – you look the most like a Keshian here. I’ll tell you what to say. We’ll follow along in a while.’

Zane listened as Caleb gave him instructions. After he had left, Caleb told Jommy and Tad, ‘I need to go somewhere before I join you. If I do not arrive at the inn by first light tomorrow, go to the innkeeper and tell him you must leave the city on the first caravan north. Go to the caravanserai, but do not travel with the caravan. It is a code, someone will be there who can take you home quickly. Understood?’

‘Where are you going?’ asked Tad.

‘To see a man about what went wrong last night—’

‘Two nights ago,’ Tad corrected.

‘Very, well, two nights ago,’ said Caleb. ‘Someone knew we were coming, Tad, and we were given a proper thrashing. I’m sorry to lose so many good men, but what I need to discover now is how they knew we were coming and how they knew that you boys would be at the Willows, and if any other mischief has been done while I’ve been unconscious.’

‘Be careful, Caleb,’ said Tad. ‘I don’t want to have to tell Mum you’re dead.’

Caleb said, ‘That makes two of us, son. Now, wait for a few minutes and then go where I told Zane to go. Jommy, you first and Tad, you leave shortly after. If anyone’s looking for you, they’ll be looking for three boys together, not a single one on some errand. May Ruthia smile on you,’ he said, invoking the Goddess of Luck.

‘You, too, Caleb,’ said Jommy.

After Caleb left, Jommy said to Tad, ‘You’ve got yourself a hell of a dad there, mate.’

Tad just nodded.

Caleb had gathered his hair on the top of his head and stuck it under his hat. He wore a cheap cloak which hid his leather vest and trousers. He didn’t plan on being in public for long, but he didn’t want to run the risk of being spotted. Without a corpse to prove he was dead, Varen’s men would certainly be on the lookout for him.

He had left the safe house, surprised it was midday – he had lost all track of time since he had entered the sewers two days before. He worked his way through the city, just another outland traveller not dressed for the Keshian heat, but hardly the first foreigner to insist on wearing such outlandish garb.

Caleb’s first stop had been a modest moneylender with a shop on the edge of a minor plaza. After that he had visited a sword maker, where he purchased a new blade. Then he had headed to his present location – an alleyway leading into one of the more unsavoury parts of the city.

He had lurked in the shadows for nearly an hour, before what he’d been waiting for appeared: a young boy – but not too young; he had no use for urchins – he needed a youthful, inexperienced thief or beggar.

As the youth passed him, Caleb reached out and grabbed his collar. Pulling him backwards, he almost lost the boy as he tried to wriggle out of his tunic. Caleb tripped him and then put his boot on the boy’s chest.

He was scrawny, with black hair and dark eyes, and his skin could have been the colour of cocoa, but it was hard to tell under all the dirt on his face. He wore a simple grey tunic and shorts matching in filthiness, and his feet were bare.

‘Mercy, master!’ he cried. ‘I have done you no harm!’

‘No,’ said Caleb, ‘and I shall do you none, if you do me one service.’

‘Name it, master, and I will serve.’

‘How do I know you won’t run off the moment I lift my boot?’

‘I swear on all the gods, master, and by my grandmother, blessings upon her, and in the name of the Emperor, blessings be upon him!’

Caleb took a coin out of his purse and held it up. The boy’s expression instantly turned from terror to overt greed. Caleb removed his foot and the boy was up in a bound. He reached for the coin, but Caleb pulled it away. ‘After you have served me.’

‘Master, but how shall I know that I will be rewarded when the task is done?’

‘Shall I take an oath on my grandmother?’ asked Caleb.

‘No, of course, but –’

‘No argument, Little Lord of Lice,’ Caleb answered in idiomatic Keshian. ‘If you do not as I ask, then another shall see my gold.’ He knew that a single gold piece was more than the boy could steal or beg in half a year.

‘What must I do?’

‘What is your name?’

‘If it pleases you, master, I am called Shabeer.’

‘Go hence, Shabeer, and carry a message for me, then return here with an answer.’

‘And if the answer displeases you, master?’

‘You shall still be rewarded.’

‘Then what is the message, and to whom do I carry it?’

‘I must meet with whoever speaks for the Ragged Brotherhood. I need to speak with he who may bind the thieves and beggars of Kesh to a bargain. Much gold may be had, though there is equal danger.’

‘In matters of gold and danger, there is someone, master.’

‘Then go at once and I will remain here, but know that I have powerful friends. Treachery will bring you death; faithful service will bring you gold.’

‘I hear and obey, master,’ said the boy and he scampered off.

Caleb faded back into the shadows and waited.