Читать книгу The Riftwar Legacy: The Complete 4-Book Collection - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 18

THE INN WAS CROWDED.

Lysle Riggers led James, Gorath and Owyn into The Wayside, a tavern whose location was reflected in its name, situated as it was just on the edge of the city, and a good walk from the main street. But it seemed a popular place, with workingmen, armed fighters and some unsavoury-looking sorts packing the common room.

James and his companions had left their horses with the lad who worked in the stabling yard, giving instructions for their care, and followed Lysle inside.

Lysle led them over to a table in the corner. He motioned for them to sit and waved to the barman, who hurried over to take their order. James ordered a round of ale and some food, and the barman offered a quick glance between him and Riggers, but said nothing as he headed back to the kitchen.

Riggers said, ‘Well, then, I owe you a story.’

‘A long one, you said,’ observed Gorath.

Riggers said, ‘And you shall have it, but I have one question. What brought you so fortuitously to my rescue?’ He studied James a moment, then said, ‘If it was pure chance, then fate has a curious sense of humour, my friend.’

James said, ‘It was chance of a sort, though I had heard your name down in Malac’s Cross, as a few people seemed to think I was you. As to how we came to your rescue, that was pure chance, though we were on the lookout for just the sort of trouble you found yourself in.’

‘You recognized my assailants,’ Riggers said, lowering his voice. ‘Obviously you know more than the average mercenary.’ He jerked his head toward Gorath. ‘His kind have been seen around here in increasing numbers lately, though rarely openly walking around with humans. All of which leads me to think you’re someone about whom I need to know more before I launch into my long story.’

James grinned. Riggers returned the grin and again the others were struck at the resemblance. Owyn said, ‘If you’re not brothers, the gods have a fine sense of whimsy.’

‘That they do,’ said Riggers, ‘irrespective of any other thing.’

James said, ‘Here’s what I can tell you. I’m working for people who presently have no reason to want you dead, Riggers. Let’s not give them one. They are also people who are at odds with those employing your would-be killers.’

‘And the enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ said Riggers, quoting the old truism.

‘To a point,’ said James. ‘At this time I like to think we may have more reasons to help one another than not.’

Riggers was silent for a minute, then the food arrived, giving him another moment of respite as he took a slice of cheese and laid it over warm bread. After the ale arrived and he took a long pull on his mug, he said, ‘Allow me to be a little circumspect, and I’ll tell you what I can.

‘I represent interests in Krondor, well established and well connected. They have trading relationships throughout the Kingdom, and into Kesh and across the Bitter Sea to Natal. Lately they’ve been harried by a new competitor, who seeks to disrupt established business relationships and carve out a new trading empire.’

James considered this a moment, then said, ‘Care to name your principals or your new competition?’

Lysle’s grin stayed in place, but the humour left his eyes. ‘No, to the first, but the second is a personage of some mystery. He’s called “the Crawler” by some.’

James leaned forward and spoke low enough that only those at the table might hear him. ‘I’m Seigneur James, of the Prince’s court, so I’m the King’s man. But I was also known for a time as Jimmy the Hand, so I know of whom you speak. “There’s a Party at Mother’s”.’

‘“And a good time will be had by all,’” finished Riggers. ‘You’re Jimmy the Hand? I never would have believed it.’ He sat back. ‘I don’t visit Krondor much. My … employer prefers I stay out here in the east. But tales of your rise have travelled far and wide.’

‘It may be we have more in common than you know,’ said James. He told of the false Nighthawks in the sewers of Krondor and the suspicion that someone was trying to finesse the Prince into raiding the Mockers’ hideouts in an attempt to find those false Nighthawks.

‘That sounds like the Crawler,’ said Lysle. ‘He would happily set Crown against Mockers, and sit back and watch. If the Mockers somehow survived, they would be weakened enough that they couldn’t oppose him; if they were destroyed, he could move in and take their place.’

‘That’s unlikely as long as Arutha’s in Krondor,’ said James. ‘He’s too savvy to get sucked into that obvious a ploy. What is of real concern to us is the existence of these genuine Nighthawks, the ones who were seeking to separate your head from your shoulders.’

‘I won’t even ask why,’ said Lysle. ‘I’ll assume that it has something to do with the good of the Kingdom.’

‘They had a strong hand in repeated attempts to kill Prince Arutha ten years ago. If they’re the survivors of that first bunch, or someone else is attempting to trade on their reputation, either way they’re a menace. What can you tell us about them?’

Lysle sat back. ‘I’m off for Tannerus in the morning – to put right that little matter that almost got you beaten to death when you were last there – so I’ll tell you what I know. There’s two places this Crawler seems to have taken a foothold. I hear he’s got a lot of the crime on the docks in Durbin under his control, and he’s dislodged the locals over in Silden. The Mockers were never strong outside Krondor, but they always had good working relationships throughout the Bitter Sea, and a lot of influence in Silden. Lately problems in several Bitter Sea ports have put a crimp on Mocker business and those friendly to the Mockers have vanished in Silden. But the real pot about to boil over is up north; there’s a lot of confusion in Romney right now, and from what I can gather, a lot of this Nighthawk business is being run through there.’

‘We’ve heard of some problems there.’

‘The Riverpullers’ Guild?’ asked Lysle.

James nodded.

‘That’s the Crawler,’ continued Lysle. ‘He starts at the docks, making it difficult for cargo to get in and out of a city, and wears down both the merchants and local thieves. After a while, people start paying protection to get their goods in, and once he’s in their pockets, he never leaves. Damon Reeves is the head of the Riverpullers, and he’s an honest man, but someone near him has been whispering in his ear.’

James said, ‘You think this Crawler is behind the revived Nighthawks?’

‘I don’t know what to think. He may have tired of me flitting around causing him troubles and put a price on my head. Or he might be behind them. Or it might be someone else wants me dead for entirely different reasons. I’ve made a few enemies in my time.’ Lysle grinned at that.

‘I have no doubt,’ said Gorath, dryly.

‘Where should we start?’ asked James.

‘Start with a man named Michael Waylander. He’s always at the centre of these problems, it seems. Arle Steelsoul, of the Ironmongers, is leading the opposition to the Riverpullers. Both sides, at least, will talk to Waylander. It’s rumoured he has his hands in a couple of shady things; nothing too important, but enough to make him dangerous.’

‘Anything besides that?’

‘Nothing I care to share with you, but also nothing that kept from you will hinder your efforts.’

‘Well,’ said James, ‘it’s more than we had before we ran across you. If you’re off for Tannerus tomorrow, we’ll know where to find you.’

Lysle grinned and James felt as if he was looking in a mirror. While Lysle was two or three years older than James, the likeness was uncanny. ‘That’s where I’m heading now. Who knows where I’ll be if you come there looking for me?’

James fixed him with a knowing gaze and said, ‘Trust me, my friend. Now that I’ve made your acquaintance, I’ll be keeping an eye on you. We’ll meet again, have no doubt.’

Lysle finished his food, excused himself and left the three alone. ‘I’ll see about a room,’ said James. He made arrangements and the three retired for the night.

In the morning, they headed for the stabling yard of the inn and discovered a confused stableboy. ‘Horses, sir? But last night you took one, and sold my master the other two.’

James turned and looked down the westward road where beyond his vision the village of Tannerus lay. Silently he swore he would certainly find Lysle Riggers again some day. And if any doubt at their being related had existed in James’s mind until this minute, it was now completely vanquished. Suddenly laughing, James said, ‘Well, I guess we need to buy some horses, lad. What have you to sell us?’

Owyn and Gorath exchanged curious glances at James’s strange reaction, but neither said a word as James waited for the boy to fetch the stable-master so he could start haggling to buy three horses.

Armed men had thrown a barrier across the road into Romney, and signalled the three riders to halt. ‘What’s this?’ asked James.

One of the men stepped from behind the barrier, mostly grain sacks and crates, and said, ‘We’re not letting strangers into Romney right now.’

James said, ‘I’m on the King’s business, and I bear warrants from the Prince of Krondor.’

‘Prince of Krondor, is it?’ said the man, rubbing his chin with his gloved hand. He looked like a stevedore, shirt sleeves rolled up high on his powerful arms, heavy chest and neck, his face burned brown by the sun. He carried a long wrecking bar, the kind used to open heavy crates off-loaded from riverboats, and he looked eager to use it. ‘Well, the Prince is a long way away; it’s not even the Western Realm, you see, so I can’t see as why that cuts any ice with us.’

‘Who’s in charge here?’ said James, jumping down from his horse and handing his reins to Owyn.

‘Well, normally it’s Michael Waylander, who’s trying to keep the Riverpullers from taking over the city, but he’s in town right now taking care of some business, so he left me in charge.’

‘And your name is …?’

‘I’m Karl Widger,’ said the man.

Before he could move, James spun on him, hitting him as hard as he could in the stomach. The man went over with a loud ‘oof’ and James brought his knee upward into Widger’s descending face. Karl went down like a dropped brick.

Pointedly stepping over the fallen dockworker, James said, ‘Would one of you run into the city and fetch Michael Waylander here? Tell him Karl is incapacitated and there’s no one in charge. Unless,’ he added, pulling his sword, ‘one of you cares to come over here and claim he’s now responsible for keeping us out of Romney?’

Two men behind the barricade conferred and one ran off, heading over a small bridge that separated the road into Romney from the King’s Highway. None of the others seemed eager to come over the barricade and challenge James, but James knew he couldn’t just ride through a dozen armed men.

Owyn dismounted and handed the reins back to James. ‘That was bold.’

Under his breath, Jimmy said, ‘And a little stupid. I hit that walking tree trunk as hard as I could. Damn near broke my hand, and it was only his stomach. I’m glad I didn’t try to hit his head. I’d probably have broken every knuckle. My knee’s throbbing like mad.’

It didn’t take long for Michael Waylander to arrive. He was a tall man, blond and sporting a short-cropped beard that looked reddish in the afternoon sun. ‘What is going on here?’ he demanded.

‘I might ask you the same thing,’ said James. ‘I bear warrants from the Prince of Krondor and I’m on the King’s business. How dare you bar my way?’

‘We’re acting under the authority of the Earl of Romney,’ said Waylander. ‘We’ve had a lot of trouble lately; damn near a guild war.’

‘Guild war?’ asked James, as if he had heard nothing about this before.

‘Damn Riverpullers are raising prices in violation of every agreement that’s in place, and they’re threatening to shut down all business up and down the river. I represent an alliance of other guilds: glaziers, rope-makers, carpenters, smiths and most of the local merchants, and we refused to pay.’

James said, ‘Let me shorten this for you. You tried to make arrangements to get your own cargo in and out of the city and the Riverpullers started dumping goods in the river and wrecking boats.’

‘More,’ said Waylander. ‘They killed two apprentices three weeks ago and fired a half-dozen boats.’

James said, ‘Well, those are local matters. We’re on business for the Crown and will brook no more delays.’

‘Let me see your warrants,’ said Waylander.

James hesitated. This Waylander was no noble or Crown official. By rights he had no legal standing and James was not under any obligation to humour him. But practical considerations and a dozen armed men made him reach into his tunic and pull out his travel warrant and a demand for aid warrant, instructing any noble to aid James in his mission for the Crown.

‘Well, we couldn’t be too careful. The Riverpullers were hiring swords and the city’s become an armed camp. We can’t do much about those inside the city already, but we can keep more from coming in.’ He handed over the warrants.

‘What about the Earl?’ asked Owyn. ‘Isn’t he keeping the peace?’

‘We don’t have a garrison here, son,’ said Waylander, and something in his tone led James to think he liked the idea. ‘We’re in the heart of the Kingdom and the most trouble we have is the occasional drunken brawl on the docks or a few bandits riding down from the northern hills to ambush someone on the road. We have a city constabulary, but most of those men are on one side or the other in this dispute. The Riverpullers are the most important guild in this area, but the other guilds together are stronger. It’s a close thing and we don’t have many neutral parties in Romney. Earl Richard asked me to come up from my home in Sloop, a village a half-day’s ride south of here, just because I’m not local; I have a lot of friends on both sides of this, and sometimes they’ll listen to me. But the Riverpullers are out of line and there’s no other way to see it.’

James put his warrants back in his tunic and said, ‘I expect they’d have something different to say on that matter. But that’s no concern of mine. I need to see the Earl.’

Waylander was about to say something when a clatter of hooves from behind caused James to look. A company of riders was approaching at a leisurely pace up the road, a banner at the head of their column announcing the presence of the Royal Lancers.

Their leader approached, held up his hand for the halt, and said, ‘What’s this then? Clear the way, you men.’

James nodded, Waylander gave the order, and the men started pulling aside the grain sacks and crates.

James walked to stand before the officer, and after a moment, the officer said, ‘What are you looking at, man?’

James grinned. ‘Walter of Gyldenholt? So Baldwin sent you south, finally?’

The former captain from the garrison at Highcastle said, ‘Do I know you?’

James laughed. ‘We met at Highcastle. I’m James, squire of the Prince’s court.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said the old captain. ‘Now I recall you.’

James couldn’t help but grin. When he had first met the captain, he had been one of the victims of Guy du Bas-Tyra’s fall from grace, an officer in service to Guy’s most loyal ally, the result of which had been years of hard service with the border barons. Glancing at Walter’s girth, he said, ‘Peacetime’s been good, it seems.’

‘What brings you here, squire?’ asked the captain, ignoring the friendly barb.

‘The Prince has us running some errands for him. You’re the company Guy sent here to restore order?’

‘We are,’ said Walter. ‘Would have been here a few days ago, but we ran into a spot of trouble to the south. Band of lads in black objected to our coming this way. Caused us a merry chase, but we managed to kill a few before the rest got away.’

James looked at Owyn and Gorath. ‘These are things we had better not speak of in the open, captain. I have to talk to the Earl. I imagine you do as well.’

‘Indeed,’ said the captain, motioning for his men to move forward, through the barricade now open before them. ‘Ride in with us, squire. We’ll keep the ruffians off your back.’ He smiled at James.

James laughed and mounted his horse, motioning for his companions to join the end of the column. There were fifty lancers in the company, enough to prevent serious trouble, and keep both sides of the dispute from doing anything rash, or at least James hoped so.

Waylander said, ‘We were only holding this bridge until the lancers arrived, squire. Tell the Earl my men and I are heading home to Sloop.’

James acknowledged the man’s request and they rode across the bridge.

Romney was a major trading centre in the east. The city was big enough to be considered huge by western standards, but here in the eastern half of the Kingdom it was a modest sized place, about half the size of Krondor. With fifty lancers at hand, the Earl could re-form his constables and restore order as long as neither side in the dispute opted for open warfare.

The tension in the city was almost palpable. As they rode in, curious onlookers glanced out of windows or cleared the streets, letting the soldiers pass.

Gorath said, ‘There is a lot of fear in the air.’

‘People worry when riots break out,’ said James. ‘Even if you’re not taking sides, the violence can sweep you up and carry you into harm’s way. Many a man has died trying to explain he wasn’t taking sides in a guild riot.’

They rounded a corner and found themselves entering the city’s square dominated by a large fountain. James was struck by something odd. ‘There aren’t any hawkers or vendors about.’

Owyn nodded. ‘I’ve been here before, on my way up to see my uncle in Cavell Keep, and there are always merchants in the main square.’

Gorath said, ‘Perhaps they were fearful of being swept up in that violence you spoke of.’

James nodded. A large inn occupied the north side of the square, a black sheep against a green meadow painted on the sign hanging over the door. ‘We’ll headquarter here,’ announced Walter of Gyldenholt.

The lancers dismounted and whatever James might have thought of the truculent former captain from Highcastle, his squad was the model of efficiency. The captain waved over a passer-by and said, ‘Do you know where the Earl of Romney is?’

The man said, ‘He’s taken up residence in that house there, sir.’ He pointed to a house across the square.

Handing the reins of his horse to an orderly, Walter dismounted and said, ‘Squire James, let’s go call upon his lordship.’

James dismounted and said to Owyn, ‘Find us a room, but in a different inn. We’ll be able to snoop about a bit easier if we’re not keeping company with fifty Royal Lancers.’

Owyn said, ‘I know just the place. I stayed here with my father once.’ He pointed. ‘Down that street is another bridge, crossing the River Cheam, and just on the other side is an inn marked by a green-cat sign. We’ll wait for you there.’

James turned and followed Walter, who marched purposefully to the door of the house. He had barely knocked when the door opened and a servant said, ‘Enter, sirs.’

The man wore a castle tabard, with the Earl’s coat-of-arms on it, a stylized river with a fish jumping from it and over a star. The servant led them to a small parlour at the rear of the house.

Earl Richard was a youthful man, but one who looked more the part of a merchant or tradesman than a noble, despite wearing armour and a sword. James had grown up amidst nobles who were fighting men as well as rulers, and these eastern nobles who wore swords for decoration took some getting used to. The Earl’s voice was surprisingly deep and forceful. ‘Welcome, gentlemen. My Lord Bas-Tyra answered my request.’

James let Walter speak first. ‘We came straight away, sir.’

‘How many men did you bring?’

‘A full company of fifty Royal Lancers.’

The Earl appeared worried. ‘I hope that’s enough. I would really prefer to settle this dispute without resorting to force.’

Walter glanced at James and shrugged. The Earl noticed the exchange and said, ‘And you are?’

‘James, squire to Prince Arutha,’ he said, producing his travel warrants and demands for assistance. The second document seemed to produce increased distress in the Earl. ‘What sort of assistance?’

‘At this point, information, m’lord. We have heard rumours of increased activity in the area by the Brotherhood of the Dark Path, as well as the possibility of a return by the Nighthawks.’

‘Possibility?’ asked the Earl, his colour rising. ‘Doesn’t anyone read the reports I forward to the Crown? Of course there’s a possibility! They’ve killed two members of the Ironmongers’ Guild for the Riverpullers, and killed two members of the Riverpullers, as well; they’ll kill for whoever pays them. I hear Baron Cavell is hiding out in Cavell Village because they’re stalking him! He lives in a small residence with his household guards in every room.’

Something about Cavell rang familiar in James’s memory, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

James said, ‘Well, then, m’lord, my companions and I will be around for a few days, asking questions. We’d prefer it if no one else knew our visit was official. If anyone asks, we are here to convey the Prince’s greetings while en route to somewhere else.’ He glanced at Walter. ‘I’ll be staying over at the Green Cat Inn, to lend credence to that, captain.’

Walter of Gyldenholt shrugged as if it were of no importance to him. He said, ‘My lord, we’ll be at your disposal. I’ll need to speak with your chief constable in the morning and establish a patrol. As soon as the folks around here see a few of my lads riding around, things will calm down.’

James and the captain excused themselves from the Earl’s presence. Outside the door, Walter said, ‘Well, squire, we’ll have things in hand around here soon enough.’

Again feeling the tension in the air, James said, ‘I hope you do, captain. I most sincerely hope you do.’

They parted company and James found his horse, mounted, and rode across the city in the direction Owyn had indicated. As he rode, he studied the city.

Romney was located across all three points of an intersection of three rivers. The River Rom coursed down from the Teeth of the World, near Northwarden, the oldest of the border baronies. At Romney the River Cheam branched off to the southeast, while the Rom continued to run southwesterly, turning southeast again as it neared the coast. James paused at the bridge he faced, which arched over the River Cheam. Something was eating at him, a memory he couldn’t quite place, and he knew that it was somehow important. He waited to see if anything bubbled to the surface of his mind, then decided it would come in its own good time.

James moved across the bridge and found this side of the city even more tense than the other. Citizens moved quickly, eyes darting around as if expecting attack from any quarter, and nowhere could any of the usual street hawkers be seen.

He reached the Green Cat Inn and rode around to the back of the stabling yard, where he found Gorath and Owyn waiting for him. ‘Why aren’t you inside, eating?’ asked James as he dismounted.

A terrified-looking stableboy said, ‘Sir, my master is unwilling to serve your … friend.’ He indicated Gorath.

Muttering, ‘I wouldn’t quite call him a friend,’ James tossed his reins to the boy and marched in the rear door of the inn. Owyn and Gorath hesitated a moment, then followed.

Inside, James saw a large man, advancing in years, but still broad of shoulders with imposing muscle under a broad girth, turn to see who entered from the stable yard. He pointed a beefy finger at Gorath and said, ‘You! I told you I’ll have none of your kind in my inn!’

James hurried to put himself between the innkeeper and Gorath. ‘And just what kind would that be?’ he asked.

The man looked down at James, appraising him and coming to a halt. The young man was quite a bit smaller, but something in his manner made the barman stop. ‘Dark elves! Fifteen years I served on the border, and I’ve killed enough of his kind to know them. They killed enough of my comrades, as well. And who the hell are you to ask?’

James said, ‘I’m Seigneur James, squire to Prince Arutha of Krondor. He’s my companion and we’re on a mission for the Crown.’

‘And I’m the Queen of Banapis,’ said the innkeeper in return.

James grinned as he reached into his tunic and produced his warrants. ‘Well, Majesty of Love and Beauty, read these, or else I’ll have to go fetch Earl Richard to vouch for me, and let’s see how much he likes being dragged over here given the temper of the city right now.’

The old man could read, but slowly, with his lips moving. James didn’t offer to help him out. After a moment, he handed back the documents. ‘Damn, you are some sort of Prince’s officer, aren’t you?’

James shrugged. ‘If I were in the army, I’d be a Knight-Lieutenant, if that makes it easier for an old soldier like you to grasp. Now, I want a room big enough for the three of us, ale, and food.’

The man threw a black look at Gorath and turned his back on James. ‘Come this way … sir.’ He led them to the bar and went behind it. He produced a large iron key and said, ‘Top of the stairs, all the way back on the right.’ James took the key, when a light entered the man’s eyes. ‘Six golden sovereigns a night.’

‘Six!’ said James. ‘You thief!’

‘It’s two per person. Take it or leave it.’

Knowing full well that the fifty lancers would eat up a lot of rooms at local inns, James said, ‘We’ll take it.’

‘In advance.’

James counted out twelve coins and said, ‘Two nights. If we stay longer, we’ll pay the day after tomorrow.’

The man swept up the coins. ‘And that doesn’t include the cost of food or ale,’ he said.

‘I was sure of that,’ said James. To Owyn and Gorath he said, ‘Let’s fetch our kits, then we’ll eat.’

They got their travel bags off their horses, ensured the stableboy knew what he was doing, and went upstairs. As James had expected, it was the least desirable room in the inn, at the back over the stable. He decided not to make an issue of it.

Downstairs they endured slow service, even though there wasn’t much of a crowd. James was deciding at what point he would have to take the old soldier who ran the place down a peg when the food finally arrived. To James’s delight, it was well prepared and of good quality.

As they ate, they discussed the situation. James shared the little information he had with them, and Owyn said, ‘So the Nighthawks are working for the Riverpullers or the Ironmongers?’

‘Neither,’ suggested Gorath. ‘Confusion and discord are Delekhan’s allies here in the Kingdom.’

‘I believe Gorath is correct. I don’t know if the Nighthawks are in league with this Crawler, Delekhan, or both, or if we’ve just wandered into a conflict that has nothing to do with our mission, but either way it’s to Delekhan’s benefit. Which means we must help to end it.’

‘How?’ asked Owyn.

‘Find out how this thing started, and see if we can figure out a way to get the two sides talking to one another. If the Earl can mediate the conflict, perhaps we can return this city to something close to order. Those lancers can only hold down the lid on this simmering pot so long; sooner or later someone’s going to pull a sword or break a head, and a full-scale city riot will be under way.’ He lowered his voice even more. ‘And if most of the city’s constabulary is on one side or the other, even those fifty lancers won’t be able to stop it.’

Owyn nodded. ‘What do you want us to do?’

Pointing to Gorath, he said, ‘First light tomorrow, I’d like you up snooping outside the city. You know what to look for.’ To Owyn he said, ‘Do you know any of the prominent families of Romney?’

‘Not well,’ said Owyn, ‘but as my father’s a baron and I’ve got enough names to drop around, I should be able to get an invitation to tea or supper from someone around here.’

James said, ‘Good. I’ll snoop around.’

‘Where?’ asked Owyn.

James grinned. ‘In parts of the city where wise men fear to go.’

Owyn nodded. ‘What else?’

‘Do you know a Baron Cavell, north of here?’ asked James.

Owyn finished a mouthful of food. ‘Corvallis of Cavell? I should. He’s my uncle. My mother’s uncle, actually, but only a few years older than her. Why?’

‘Richard of Romney says he’s being stalked by the Nighthawks.’

Owyn said, ‘That doesn’t surprise me. Uncle Corvallis always had a hot temper and an unforgiving nature. Made it easy for him to collect enemies. Still, I find it hard to imagine that anyone wants him dead.’

James shrugged. ‘That’s what Earl Richard said the Baron of Cavell claims.’

Gorath said, ‘If they wanted him dead, he’d be dead.’

James said, ‘Well, according to Richard, your uncle Corvallis is hiding out in a room in a house in the middle of Cavell Village, with armed guards in every room.’

Owyn nodded. ‘The old keep was gutted mysteriously in a fire years ago. The family’s been living in the best house in the village since then, and talking about restoring the old keep, but at this point it’s still abandoned.’

James said, ‘Well, we might have to go talk to your uncle if we can’t find the Nighthawks down here.’

Gorath observed, ‘I haven’t noticed much difficulty in finding them.’

James nodded agreement. ‘Too true.’

They finished their meal and turned in for the night.

The shout had barely registered on James the next morning and he was out of bed, grabbing his trousers and boots. Gorath was also awake and reaching for his sword. Owyn stirred on his pallet next to Gorath’s and said, ‘What?’

‘Sounds like a riot is commenced,’ said Gorath.

James listened to the sound and said, ‘No, it’s something else.’

He finished dressing and hurried down the hall to the stairs to the common room. As he approached the front of the building he could hear the voices from out in front. The landlord stood at the door to his inn, listening as people hurried by.

‘What is it?’ demanded James.

With a dark look, the innkeeper said, ‘Murder. The cry is murder has been done in the night.’

‘Murder?’ asked Owyn, coming down the stairs. ‘Who?’

‘I don’t know,’ said the innkeeper. ‘But they’re saying it was done over at the Black Sheep Inn.’

James was through the door before the words had vanished from the air, Owyn and Gorath following. He didn’t bother to go and saddle his horse, but rather sprinted through the streets, following the flood of people who swept along like a stream, heading across the bridge toward the main square of the city.

As he neared the square, he found a press of people being held back by a few men with pole arms, all wearing armbands. None of the Royal Lancers was in evidence. James had to push his way through the crowd and when he reached the front, he was barred by a man holding a pike.

James pushed aside the pike shouting, ‘On the business of the Crown!’

The man obviously wasn’t prepared for that and hesitated, letting James, Gorath and Owyn pass. But he managed to keep others back as Richard, Earl of Romney, came striding across the square, toward the fountain. He saw James and exclaimed, ‘Squire!’

James crossed to where he waited and said, ‘My lord? What is it?’

Barely able to speak because of his rage, he pointed to the open door of the Black Sheep Inn and said, ‘Look!’

James hurried to the entrance.

Entering the commons he saw Royal Lancers, sprawled across tables or on the floor, their eyes vacant and fixed. He needed no healer or priest to pronounce the men dead. He looked over at a cowering stableboy, who had found the bodies when he had come in for breakfast an hour earlier, and said, ‘All of them?’

The boy was so terrified he could barely speak. ‘Sir,’ he nodded. ‘The officer is in his room upstairs, and the sergeant and some of the others. The rest died down here.’

Gorath crossed to the table and picked up a mug of ale. He sniffed at it. ‘Poison,’ he said, ‘or I’m a goblin. You can smell it.’

James took the mug and sniffed it, judging the moredhel’s sense of smell keener than his own, for he could detect no odour beyond that of warm ale. He noticed a slight black sediment in the mug. He fished out a tiny bit with his finger, then touched it to the tip of his tongue. Spitting it out, he said, ‘You may be right, and there may be poison in this ale, but what you’re smelling is tarweed.’

‘Tarweed?’ asked Owyn, looking pale despite the number of corpses he had seen already.

James nodded, putting down the mug. ‘Old trick in some of the seedier inns in the Kingdom. Tarweed is nasty stuff in large amounts, but in small doses it makes you thirsty. You lace bad ale with it, and the customers drink it like it was dwarven winter ale.’

‘Can it kill you?’ asked Owyn.

‘No, but there are many tasteless poisons that can,’ said James.

He turned to the boy and said, ‘What’s your name?’

‘Jason,’ the boy answered, terrified. ‘What are they going to do to me?’ he asked.

‘Nothing, why?’

‘I served these men, sir. My master always said the care of our guests was our responsibility.’

James said, ‘Perhaps, but you couldn’t know the ale was poisoned, could you?’

‘No, but I knew something was odd, and I didn’t say anything.’

James was now acutely interested. ‘What was odd?’

‘The men who came with the ale. We buy our ale from the Sign of the Upturned Keg down in Sloop. I know the waggon drivers. This time it was strange men.’

James took Jason by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. ‘Is there anything you can tell us about these men, anything special?’

Jason stared at the ceiling a moment, as if struggling to remember. ‘They were dark men, maybe Keshians, and they spoke oddly. And they seemed worried, but they didn’t say anything. One wore a medallion that swung out from under his tunic when he leaned over to hand a keg down to his partner.’

‘What did it look like?’ demanded James.

‘It had a bird on it.’

James glanced at Gorath and Owyn. ‘What else?’ asked James.

‘They told me to forget I had ever seen them,’ replied Jason. ‘And they smelled funny, like sailors from Silden do when they come here, like sun on canvas and flowers.’

Gorath and Owyn began inspecting the room, while James went outside. He saw Earl Richard, rooted to the same spot he had occupied when James had entered the inn. The shock of the murders had rendered the Earl nearly unable to function. James had seen it before with men who were unused to bloodshed. He hurried to the Earl and said, ‘My lord, what do you propose?’

Blinking as if he had difficulty understanding James, Richard echoed, ‘Propose?’

James pointed at the crowd and said, ‘You must tell them something. Disperse them before things get any uglier than before. Then the bodies must be attended to.’

‘Yes,’ said Earl Richard. ‘That’s so.’ He mounted the fountain and stood where everyone could see him. ‘Citizens of Romney,’ he shouted, and as the words came from him, James could see that speaking before the citizenry was something the Earl did often, for the familiarity of the task returned his wits.

‘Go to your homes!’ commanded the Earl. ‘Stay calm. Black murder has been done and those responsible will be hunted down and punished.’ He jumped down and waved over a constable. ‘I want someone from the Riverpullers and the Ironmongers here in five minutes.’

‘Damn!’ said the Earl to James. ‘I need send to Cheam for more troops. Black Guy won’t be pleased when he learns fifty of the King’s Own have died in my city.’

‘Nor will the King,’ observed James. Seeing the Earl’s face cloud over at the mention of King Lyam, James said, ‘My companions and I will do anything we can to help.’

‘The best thing you can do right now, squire, is find out who is behind this.’

‘I already know,’ said James. He told them of the tarweed and the two men who appeared to be from Silden.

‘Nighthawks!’ whispered the Earl, so as not to be overheard by any of the crowd who were slowly leaving the area. ‘Damn! I almost wish it had been Damon Reeves or Arle Steelsoul behind this.’

‘Why them?’ asked James.

‘Because then I could hang one or the other with cause and end two problems for the price of one. Reeves runs the Riverpullers, and Arle Steelsoul is the head of the Ironmongers’ Guild. They are at the heart of the dispute.’ He indicated two men approaching. When they were standing before the Earl, he said, ‘Tell your respective factions that I have had enough with violence in Romney. I hold the head of the Riverpullers and Ironmongers personally responsible for the good behaviour of both sides of this dispute. Any further violence and I will hang them, side by side, from the city gate. Carry word back to them now!’

The first man, one of the Ironmongers, said, ‘But Arle Steelsoul’s down in Sloop!’

‘Then carry word to Sloop,’ instructed the Earl.

James said, ‘M’lord, I will do that.’ The two men exchanged glances, as if asking who the stranger was to bear such tidings to the leaders of the two warring factions.

The Earl said, ‘Pass the word that Arle and Damon’s lives will be forfeit if there are any more problems in my city.’ The two men bowed and ran off.

‘Can you enforce the threat, m’lord?’ asked James when the men were out of earshot.

‘Probably not, but it may shock them into behaving themselves until the next detachment of soldiers arrives.’ He looked at James. ‘Why do you choose to go to Sloop?’

‘Because that’s where the poisoned ale is from, and because I think we need to continue on down to Silden after that.’

‘Then tell Steelsoul and Michael Waylander that I expect both men to be here in three days’ time, along with Reeves and the other local leaders of the various factions, and should either not appear, I will know he has a hand in black murder. I’ll issue the death warrant myself. If they both show up, I’m locking all of them in a room and neither side will be permitted to leave until we have a settlement of these differences. I don’t care if they have to pee on the floor, or die of starvation, I’ll have an end to this business before any of them sees the sun again.’

Convinced of the Earl’s earnestness in the matter, James said, ‘My companions and I will be off in an hour, m’lord.’ He bowed and returned to the Black Sheep, where two workers were helping Jason move the bodies so they could be piled up on a waggon and taken from the city for cremation. Owyn waved James over.

‘Find anything interesting?’

‘Just this,’ said Owyn. He held out two items. One was a small silver brooch, looking like an oversize spider.

‘What’s this?’ asked James.

‘Turn it over,’ said Gorath.

James did as he was bid and saw a large groove running down the centre of the item. In it a tightly-packed gummy substance could be seen. James lifted the device to his nose and sniffed. ‘Silverthorn!’ he said.

‘Are you sure?’ asked Owyn.

‘I’d recognize that odour anywhere, trust me,’ replied James.

‘It’s an assassin’s tool,’ said Gorath. ‘You run the edge of a dagger along that groove and even if you don’t strike a killing blow, the victim dies within hours.’

‘What else?’ asked James.

Owyn held out a brass tube with glass at each end. ‘A spyglass?’ asked James.

‘Look through it,’ suggested Owyn.

James did and his perspective altered. The colours through the glass changed and he suddenly saw shifting patterns on the clothing of his companions as well as on the walls of the building. Pulling it away from his eye, he said, ‘What is this?’

Owyn said, ‘It’s magic. I will have to study it, but I think it lets you see things you otherwise can’t see, such as magically-hidden items.’

James looked down at the two items. He wished he had better clues, but these two would have to do as a start.