Читать книгу The Riftwar Legacy: The Complete 4-Book Collection - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 23

WIND AND RAIN PELTED THE RIDERS.

Owyn wasn’t sure if this was preferable to the snows he had endured on the north side of the mountain, for while it was warmer, it was far wetter. His heavy fur-lined robe was sodden, weighing on him like lead. But at least, he thought, this time he wasn’t drugged and tied to his horse.

The escort provided by Obkhar’s clan had seen them safely to a pass controlled by their faction. As they reached the foothills of the mountain, they intercepted a runner carrying warnings of a falling-out near Sar-Sargoth. Delekhan’s forces were surrounded by Narab, who had been removed from Delekhan’s inner council and replaced by Delekhan’s son, Moraeulf. Speculation was that Narab had to move to capture and destroy Delekhan before the Six intervened or else he and his clan would be crushed. Gorath greeted the news with indifference, later mentioning to Owyn that he would be pleased if either of them destroyed the other.

At the summit of the small pass they had taken, the escort turned back, saying this pass was heavily patrolled by Kingdom forces. As if predicted, later that same day they had been intercepted by a Kingdom patrol of Krondorian regulars. The officer in command, Lieutenant Flynn by name, had been ready to brand them both renegades, but Owyn mentioned Arutha’s name and said they carried a message from Squire James; and more to the point, they knew Arutha was camped in the Dimwood.

The patrol had handed off Gorath and Owyn to another detachment, who had escorted them to a camp in the Dimwood. For several miles, the bivouacked soldiers’ fires were visible. Gorath had observed that a significant portion of the Kingdom army must be in the woods.

Arutha sat at a command table, Knight-Marshal Gardan at his side, looking at marks on a large map of the mountains leading to the north. Looking up as Gorath and Owyn were ushered into his presence, he said, ‘You look on the verge of collapse. Sit down.’ He indicated a pair of camp chairs nearby. Owyn didn’t need a second invitation and sat heavily, while Gorath walked to the map and studied it. ‘Here,’ he said, putting his finger on the spot designated Northwarden. ‘This is where Delekhan plans to assault your forces.’

Arutha was silent for a long while, studying the moredhel. Finally, he said, ‘If you will forgive my caution, where is Squire James?’

Owyn said, ‘Sire, he sent us to bring you word while he hurried to Northwarden to carry warning to Baron Gabot. He gave us these documents.’ He handed the documents to a soldier who gave them to Knight-Marshal Gardan. Owyn filled them in on how they had uncovered and destroyed the nest of Nighthawks near Cavell Keep. He detailed James’s theory that Delekhan was planning on going by boat and portage from Northwarden to Romney, then straight overland to Sethanon.

Arutha again was silent as he studied the documents. ‘These are much like those we saw when first you came to Krondor, Gorath. Then they claimed the attacks were in places like Tannerus and Yabon. What are we to believe?’

Gardan’s dark face was set in an expression of doubt. He said, ‘We hear you speak of leaving James at Cavell Keep, yet we intercept you coming south through the mountains again. You picked a most indirect route to reach us, moredhel.’

‘We had little choice, my lord,’ replied Owyn. He explained about the capture and attempted to outline the chaotic conditions among the various clans of the north.

When he finished, Arutha said, ‘You paint a picture of confusion and rival factions battling for control, yet our patrols and advanced units see only a unified opposition, working in a co-ordinated fashion.’

‘You see only those forces loyal to Delekhan south of the Teeth of the World, Prince Arutha,’ said Gorath. ‘Clans who either oppose or resist him are either fleeing to refuges in the ice-bound mountains to the far north or seeking to travel near the Lake of the Sky south past the eledhel and dwarves to the Green Heart.’

Gardan said, ‘We have had reports from Duke Martin of heavier than usual sightings of bands of moredhel moving past the eastern boundary of Crydee, Highness. Martin says he’s seen women and children, so they’re not war parties.’

Arutha said, ‘I am still dubious. I sent Locklear two weeks ago to gather reports from the border barons to the east. He is going to Highcastle and Northwarden. He should return in another two weeks. If James is there, Locklear will return with word.’

Gorath said, ‘James said you might need to be convinced. He said to tell you …’ He glanced at Owyn.

‘There’s a Party at Mother’s,’ said Owyn.

Arutha nodded. ‘“And a good time will be had by all.” It’s a Mockers’ password, used by James and me the first time we met.’

‘Do you believe us now, Highness?’ asked Owyn.

‘I believe that James believes this to be true,’ said Arutha. He sat back thinking. ‘I just hope he’s right.’

‘Orders, Highness?’ asked Gardan.

‘I have no choice. Either I trust James’s intelligence or I don’t. I want a detachment left behind to secure this area, but the balance of the army is to march to Northwarden.’

Gardan studied the map. ‘Would it not be wiser to alert the King and muster the Army of the East to reinforce Gabot?’

‘It would if the Army of the East was mustered, already. I’ll send a message to Lyam asking him to be ready to stand behind us, should Delekhan win past Northwarden. But we can be there faster than Lyam, so let us be expedient. Order camp broken at first light tomorrow.’

Gardan saluted and left the tent to give orders. Arutha said, ‘Tell me about the Six.’

Owyn tried to recall everything that was said about the mysterious magicians working for Delekhan. When at last he had finished, prodded by several acute questions from the Prince, Arutha said, ‘I have a mission for you two.’

Gorath said, ‘I would rather be on the wall at Northwarden, Highness, so that I might greet Delekhan as he deserves.’

‘I have no doubt,’ said Arutha. ‘But personal honour and debts of blood must be put aside. If we all fail, who will revenge us? I want you to go back to Krondor, to find Pug. If he is not there and his wife Katala is, she will be able to reach him. If she has also gone, simply use a talisman Pug gave me for the purpose. The Princess knows it and how to use it, and when Pug comes, tell him of the Six. I think magic will play an even bigger part in this coming conflict, and I am ill-prepared if we are to encounter such at Northwarden.’

‘Cannot the boy alone do this?’ asked Gorath.

‘Pug will have means to extract things from your memory you may have forgotten,’ said Arutha. ‘But I doubt he can do such without your help.’

Gorath was silent for a long while, then said, ‘Once this is done, I wish to return and fight.’

Arutha nodded. ‘I understand.’ Then he paused. ‘No, I don’t understand. That was presumptuous. I know nothing of your race and what drives you.’ He studied Gorath’s face for a moment, as if trying to read something inside the moredhel chieftain. ‘But I would like the opportunity to learn some time. I can appreciate the drive to right a wrong, personally. When you are finished with Pug, return and I will welcome your sword.’

Gorath said, ‘You are also more than I expected, Prince Arutha. I also would appreciate the opportunity to learn more of your people.’ He glanced at Owyn. ‘Though this boy and the other have shown me a great deal already that has made me question many of my people’s attitudes toward your race.’

Arutha said, ‘That is a beginning. Perhaps one day we can have more.’ He came around the table and extended his hand to Gorath, who took it. They shook hands and it was more than a gesture.

‘Your Highness is gracious,’ said Gorath.

‘Rest, and tomorrow go with the patrol I send to Malac’s Cross. It is faster than trying to go straight through the woods toward Sethanon and around the mountains to Darkmoor. I’ll have documents drawn and you can commandeer an escort at Malac’s Cross and at Darkmoor. They should get you to Krondor safely. Once there, Pug will know what to do.’

Owyn and Gorath departed, and a soldier escorted them to a tent. He held aside the tent flap and said, ‘The lads who sleep here are on patrol until tomorrow, so they won’t mind your sleeping here if you don’t steal nothing.’ He smiled to show he was joking, but Gorath fixed him with a stare that caused the smile to fade. He hurried away saying, ‘There’s food at the big fire near the Prince’s tent when you’re hungry.’

Gorath said, ‘It will be good to eat hot food again.’ He glanced over to one of the bedrolls to find Owyn already face-down and snoring.

James cursed all petty barons who answered only to the King as he negotiated his way along a frozen ridge, his breath forming clouds of white before him as he exhaled. The air stung each time he inhaled, his toes were numb, and his stomach reminded him he had not eaten yet.

James had arrived within hours of Locklear at Baron Gabot’s fortress, a towering keep of stone which dominated one of the three major passes through the eastern half of the Teeth of the World. Unlike Highcastle, which had sat in the middle of the pass itself, providing a barrier that was a controlled gate, Northwarden rose up on a small peak, around which wound the pass known as Northland’s Door. A single road wound down the side of the large hill in a lazy s-curve, widening as it descended. Designed this way, the road gave the double benefit of allowing the Baron’s forces to spread out as they charged down to intercept any foe, while forcing any attackers to concentrate a smaller force in the van should they be foolish enough to attack up the road.

What kept the road below in Baron Gabot’s control was a series of siege engines mounted on two walls, the north and the west. The western defences were the heaviest, while the northern were designed to harry any forces attempting to come down the pass and negotiate the turn up the road to the keep. Mangonels and catapults, as well as a trio of heavy ballistae over the main gate, ensured that any army attempting to pass would take critical casualties before they rounded the pass and got beyond the engines’ range. Some soldiers would get past, it was certain, but nothing resembling an organized force. And to deal with any who did win through, the Baron kept a small garrison of horse soldiers in a barracks near the small town of Dencamp-on-the-Teeth.

Baron Gabot had felt confident that any threat coming through Northwarden could be dealt with by his command. That had been a welcome response to James, though he hoped fervently that Owyn and Gorath had reached Arutha in the Dimwood and help was on the way. He was beginning to worry. Had they reached Arutha and convinced him of the warning, the Prince’s army should have been arriving at Northwarden now.

Instead, there was only silence. Gabot had sent another message to the Dimwood, at James’s urging, requesting support from the Prince, and had also sent word south via fast messenger to the King, his liege lord. At least, thought James, Gabot wasn’t as stiff-necked as old Baron Brian Highcastle, who had managed to get himself killed ignoring Arutha’s advice when Murmandamus had driven south over his position. With luck, Arutha would receive Gabot’s message even if Gorath and Owyn hadn’t survived.

James found himself hoping that wasn’t the case; he had grown fond of the youth from Timons, and he was surprised to find he also had come to like something about the moredhel. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something definite about the dark elf, a lack of uncertainty about who or what he was; few men had it, and James admired it: even more, he admired the moredhel’s ability to put aside his own personal dislike for humans to seek their aid in opposing what he saw as a great wrong against his people.

Locklear waved and pointed. As a favour for Baron Gabot, since dawn, he and James had been scouting ahead to see if advance moredhel units were anywhere in the north end of the pass. A patrol had headed out two days before, accompanied by a magician now in the Baron’s employ, and the Baron was concerned about their fate. It went unsaid that the two squires were no loss to the Baron should any harm befall them, while losing another patrol to the enemy would severely weaken Northwarden. James and Locklear couldn’t contrive a plausible reason to say no, so here on the second day of their trip they were working their way through the frozen dawn, with James silently cursing all border barons.

A noise ahead had alerted them to a possible enemy position. Locklear was holding his horse while James climbed above the floor of the pass to a high ridge to get a look ahead. A single figure scampered along the trail, holding the hem of his ivory-coloured robe with one hand, exposing spindly legs as he hurried. In his other hand he held a large staff, shod at either end with iron caps.

Every hundred feet or so, he would turn and pause, and when a pursuing figure would come into view, he’d unleash a bolt of energy, a blast of flame the size of a melon; a tactic that was producing little real damage, but which served to keep the pursuer from closing. James began scrambling down the hillside, while Locklear shouted, ‘What is it?’

Sliding the last dozen yards, James hit the ground running and said, ‘I think we’ve found Gabot’s magician.’ He pulled a crossbow off the back of his horse and quickly cranked it up and placed a bolt in it, while Locklear drew his sword and waited.

The old man rounded a corner and hesitated when he saw the two squires. Locklear signed for him to come on, and shouted, ‘This way!’

The old man hurried and when the moredhel who was chasing him rounded the same corner, James drew a bead on him, then let fly with his crossbow. The bolt sped across the gap and took the moredhel right off his feet, propelling him backward.

Locklear said, ‘You’ve been practising. I’m impressed.’

‘I’ll never learn to use the bow, but this thing is pretty easy,’ said James, putting away the crossbow.

‘Not very accurate, though.’

James nodded. ‘Find a good one, then keep it. Some of them shoot all over the place; this one usually hits what I’m aiming at.’

The old man was puffing a bit and when he reached them, he put his staff down and leaned on it. ‘Thanks, lads. That was a little closer than I care to think about.’

‘Are you Master Patrus?’ asked Locklear.

‘Just Patrus,’ said the old man. ‘Yes, I’m he. Why, you looking for me?’

James said, ‘And a company of Baron Gabot’s soldiers.’

The old man was slender and sported a wispy grey moustache and goatee. He wore a hat that looked more like a nightcap than any sort of proper hat, and along with the ivory-coloured robe, it made him appear to be walking about in his nightclothes. Pointing back the way he had come, he said, ‘We got jumped a half-day back, by a mixed company of those damned Dark Brothers and trolls. Those trolls were a handful, I can tell you.’

James said, ‘I’ve fought them. You’re the only one to get away?’

‘One or another of the lads may have found a way through. Some of them got up into the ridges. I’m an old man; best I could do was hurry along the road and keep them ducking behind me.’

‘Where did they jump you?’

‘About two miles ahead,’ said the old magician.

‘That staff of yours is handy,’ observed Locklear.

‘Well, lad, the truth is it’s a little bit of fire, not much more than a scorch mark if it hits you, but it’s just hot enough to make you duck if you see the fireball coming at you. I made the thing years ago to impress some pesky townspeople down south who were trying to run me off. A few little fireballs tossed their way and they left me alone.’

James laughed. ‘Owyn didn’t tell me you were such a character.’

‘Owyn Belefote? Where do you know that rascal from?’ asked Patrus.

‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you while we walk. If you’re up to it, I want to check out the place those trolls jumped you. Otherwise you can continue back to Northwarden. It should be safe between here and there.’

‘I think I’ll stick close to you, lads. Who are you?’

‘I’m Squire James of Krondor, and this is Squire Locklear. We’re members of the Prince’s court.’ They started walking their horses rather than ride while the old man walked.

‘Prince Arutha’s lads? You wouldn’t happen to know Pug of Stardock, would you?’

‘We’ve had the pleasure,’ said Locklear.

‘I’d like to meet him, some time. I’ve heard a thing or two about his academy. Told Owyn he ought to get himself down there; I’d taught him everything he could learn.’

James said, ‘Locklear here met Owyn on his way back from Stardock; he was visiting his aunt in Yabon. I think Stardock didn’t work out too well for him.’

‘Bah!’ said the old magician, picking his way along the road with his staff. ‘The boy has talent, a fair amount from what I can tell, but I think he’s one of those Greater Paths, because a lot of what I tried to teach him just didn’t work. But the things that did, why, he was fierce with it, he was.’ The old country magician looked up the pass and said, ‘Company’s coming.’

Locklear drew his sword and James unlimbered his crossbow again. But rather than trolls or dark elves, two dusty members of Baron Gabot’s company came into view. One was obviously wounded and the other looked very tired.

‘Patrus!’ said the wounded soldier. ‘We thought they’d got you.’

‘Not even close,’ said the old man with a grin. ‘These lads lent a hand.’

‘I’m Squire James. What did you see?’

The senior-most soldier reported, indicating that a squad of twenty Dark Brothers and an equal number of trolls had ambushed their patrol, and only a falling-out between the two factions had kept them from killing all of Gabot’s men.

‘That’s interesting,’ said Locklear.

‘Very,’ agreed James. ‘If they’re fighting, it’s over pay.’

Patrus nodded. ‘Troll mercenaries don’t wait to get paid. They go back home or take it out of your hide.’

‘I don’t know what caused the row,’ said the wounded soldier, ‘but we were running and one of the Brotherhood of the Dark Path yelled something at a troll, and instead of chasing us, the troll turned and tried to slice up the Brother. It was a fair mêlée by the time we got away.’

The other soldier nodded. ‘They had their blood up, the trolls did, and they seemed just as satisfied killing Dark Brothers as they did us.’

‘Great,’ said James. ‘Confusion to the enemy. Now, you boys all right to get back to the Baron alone?’

‘If there’s no one waiting between here and there to jump us, we’ll be okay,’ said the wounded soldier.

‘Good. Go and report to the Baron and when you’re done telling him what you’ve seen, tell him we’re going to go snoop around and see what else we can find.’

‘Very well, squire,’ said the unwounded man, saluting.

The soldiers continued on and Locklear said, ‘What do you have in mind?’

‘If those soldiers got jumped by trolls, there’s a camp nearby.’

‘Yes,’ said Patrus. ‘The town of Raglam’s ahead. It’s sort of an open town. Not quite Kingdom, but enough humans living there that it’s not particularly Northlands, either. Lots of weapons runners, slavers and other no-accounts visit there all the time.’

‘Sounds like my kind of place,’ said James with a grin.

‘You going to get us killed?’

James’s grin widened. ‘Never, Locklear, my old friend; you’re going to get killed some day over a woman, not because of anything I’m planning.’

Locklear returned the grin. ‘Well, if she’s beautiful enough.’

They laughed, and Patrus said, ‘You boys got something you’d like to tell an old conjurer like me about?’

‘I thought we might take a ride into Raglam and have a look around.’

Patrus shook his head. ‘Crazy, that’s what you two are. Sounds like fun.’

The old magician started to march up the draw, and James and Locklear exchanged glances, then laughter.

The patrol leader signalled for his men to halt and said to Gorath and Owyn, ‘Malac’s Cross.’

They were arrayed before The Queen’s Row Tavern, which was obviously crowded, and Owyn said, ‘Why don’t we try the abbey?’

Gorath nodded. They bid their escort goodbye and rode on, and Gorath said, ‘I would have thought you’d prefer an ale and the company of others than the monks of Ishap.’

‘I would, had I the means to pay for that ale,’ said Owyn. ‘Unless you’ve secreted away some booty you failed to mention to me, I’m without a copper to my name, thanks to Delekhan’s guards. In all the preparation for heading off to Northwarden, the Prince was so busy … I forgot to ask for funds.’

Gorath said, ‘So we beg?’

‘We ask for hospitality. I suspect Abbot Graves is a more likely source for such than an overworked innkeeper.’

Gorath said, ‘Perhaps you’re right.’

‘Besides, we might even convince the Abbot to lend us the price of a meal or two between here and Krondor.’

‘We should have thought of that before leaving Prince Arutha.’

‘I didn’t think of it,’ said Owyn. ‘You didn’t think of it. We didn’t think of it. So, there’s no “should”, is there?’

Gorath grumbled that this was so.

They reached the abbey and saw that the gate was closed. ‘Hello, the abbey!’ called Owyn.

‘Who is it?’ came a voice from within.

‘Owyn Belefote. We came to see the Abbot.’

‘Wait,’ was the terse reply. And they waited.

Nearly a quarter of an hour passed before the gate opened, and a very worried-looking monk admitted them. As soon as they had passed through the gate, it slammed behind them. Dismounting, Owyn asked, ‘What is this?’

A monk took their horses and said, ‘The Abbot waits for you within.’

They went inside and found Abbot Graves overseeing a pair of monks who appeared to be packing things up.

‘Are you leaving?’ asked Gorath.

Looking at the two, Graves said, ‘Where is James?’

‘Last we saw him he was on his way to Northwarden,’ replied Owyn. ‘Why?’

‘Damn!’ swore the Abbot. ‘I was hoping he could do me a service.’

Owyn repeated Gorath. ‘Are you leaving?’

‘I must,’ said Graves. ‘Twice in the last week Nighthawks have tried to kill me.’

Owyn and Gorath exchanged questioning looks. Owyn said, ‘But Abbot, James killed the leader of the Nighthawks.’

‘Navon is dead?’ asked Graves.

Before anyone could react, Gorath had his sword drawn and the point levelled at the Abbot’s throat. Two monks leaped to their feet, one trying to put as much distance between himself and the moredhel as possible, while the other assumed a fighting stance, as if ready to defend the abbey’s leader.

‘Wait!’ shouted Owyn, putting his hands out.

‘How did you know du Sandau was the leader of the Nighthawks?’ demanded Gorath. ‘We could have been killed for lack of that knowledge.’

Graves held up his hands. ‘Because he was extorting me.’

Owyn put his hand on Gorath’s sword and slowly forced the point down. ‘Let’s talk,’ he said calmly.

Graves motioned for the monk who was ready to attack to withdraw and the young cleric nodded and departed, the other monk a step behind him.

Gorath said, ‘Explain this “extorting” before I kill you.’

Owyn said, ‘Sandau was forcing Graves to do something against his will by threatening him with something. Isn’t that right?’

‘Yes,’ Graves replied. ‘He found out something about me and used it to gain my help in whatever he was plotting.’

Owyn sat on the table where the monks had been working and said, ‘How can anyone force a priest of Ishap to do anything? You have magic and a powerful church to call on. What did he do?’

Graves said, ‘As I told Jimmy – James, I have ties from my old life that aren’t completely severed.’ Graves sat and Gorath put his sword away. ‘I used to be a thief, a basher, for the Mockers in Krondor. I provided protection for cargo we were running in and out of the city, and kept anyone else from setting up a gang, and I protected our girls, so no one roughed them up.’

He looked down and his expression was one of regret. ‘When I felt the call and went to the Temple of Ishap, I tried to put that life behind me. The church trained me for two years, and I took vows. But I wasn’t honest in my vow.’

‘How could you lie taking a vow in a temple?’ asked Owyn, his expression showing astonishment. ‘It can’t be done!’

Graves said, ‘It can, if you don’t know it’s a lie when you make it. I honestly thought I was rid of my past, but I was lying to myself.’

‘What does that mean?’ asked Gorath.

‘I thought I had severed all ties, but I hadn’t. When I was placed in the brotherhood of monks, I was asked to work on behalf of the temple in Krondor. So I was back among my old haunts.’

He fell silent, as if reluctant to go on.

‘What happened?’ asked Owyn.

‘There’s a woman. She was a girl I knew when I was a basher. She was as tough as a boot and mean as an alley cat. That’s what we called her, Kat. Her name is Katherine.’

‘A whore?’ asked Gorath.

‘No, a thief,’ said Graves. ‘She was a fair pickpocket and tough enough to be a basher, but where she really excelled was boosting. She could steal your nightshirt off you while you slept and you’d wake naked and wondering where your laundry was.’ He sighed. ‘She was a little slip of a thing when I met her. I used to tease her and watch her get mad at me. Then when she got older I’d tease her and she’d tease back.

‘Then I fell in love with her.’

‘But you left her to take orders with Ishap?’ said Owyn.

‘She’s a lively thing, and she could do better than me. A lot of the younger boys would like to take up with her. I thought she would be better off with someone else. I thought it would be easy to put her out of my mind. But it wasn’t.

‘I saw her on the streets from time to time, and somewhere, somehow, a fellow named the Crawler got wind of her, and one night this Navon du Sandau comes up to me, bright as gold and sits down at a table at the Queen’s Cross and says, “We know about your little kitty cat in Krondor. If you don’t do what we tell you to do, she’s dead.” He said if I asked the temple for help she’d be dead.’

‘You believed him?’ asked Owyn.

‘I had to. He knew things. This Crawler had been looking for people for a long time, I guess, because he knew enough about my old life I knew he’d kill her before I could do anything.’

Owyn said, ‘So why are you getting ready for travel?’

‘I was expecting a message a month ago from du Sandau. Instead a Nighthawk tried to climb the wall of the abbey. The brother responsible for defending the abbey intercepted him and it was close, but the assassin died.

‘Then two weeks later, I was walking back from the centre of town when a crossbow bolt intended for me struck the brother walking next to me.’

‘Where are you going?’ asked Owyn.

Graves said, ‘I am owed some favours by a man in a village near Sloop. He has dealings in Kesh. I sent him a message asking him to help me get out of the Kingdom. Today a message came from him indicating he could help.’

Owyn said, ‘Michael Waylander?’

‘Yes,’ replied Graves. ‘How did you know?’

Owyn said, ‘There is a relationship here. Waylander, you, the Nighthawks, and this Crawler. I’m not sure I can begin to guess at it, but if James were here he might puzzle this out.’

‘I can’t wait. Even if Sandau is dead, there are other Nighthawks. The one who shot at me is still out there.’

‘True,’ said Gorath, ‘but won’t your order protect you?’

Graves shook his head and his expression was one of regret. ‘If I had gone to them at once, perhaps. But I didn’t, and I’ve broken my vow. My only hope is to get Kat out of Krondor, and to reach Kesh before the Nighthawks find me.’

‘We’re heading for Krondor,’ said Owyn. ‘Should we travel together?’

‘Your magic and your friend’s sword would count for a lot, but you’d be putting yourself in harm’s way.’

Owyn laughed. ‘I’ve been doing that on a regular basis since I met Gorath.’

‘Life is danger,’ Gorath said. ‘I do not understand how your love for this girl could blind you to your duty, but then much about you humans is strange to me. If Owyn says we should not kill you for your part in this business with the Nighthawks, I will follow his lead.’ He leaned forward, his boot on the bench on which Graves sat, until his face was before the Abbot’s. ‘But if you betray us again, I will eat your heart.’

Graves smiled back, and the old basher could briefly be seen, as he said, ‘You’re welcome to try at any time, elf.’

Gorath snorted.

Owyn said, ‘Well, we are lacking funds, so we must needs depend on your generosity to eat on the road.’

Graves stood up and called for his monks, who returned to help him finish packing. ‘If you get me to Krondor alive, you’ll have earned your meals and some gold as bonus.’

Owyn said, ‘If that Nighthawk is out there watching the abbey, he’ll know we’re here.’

‘We leave tonight,’ said Graves.

Owyn winced. ‘I wanted to sleep in a bed,’ he complained.

‘Sleep now,’ said Graves, pointing to his own pallet in the corner of the room. ‘I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.’

Owyn nodded. ‘If we must.’

‘We must,’ said Graves.

Owyn lay down on the straw-stuffed mattress on the floor, and Graves said to Gorath, ‘Would you like to sleep?’

‘Yes,’ replied the dark elf, but he remained standing, his eyes on Graves. ‘But after we’re on our way to Krondor.’

Graves nodded and returned to overseeing the preparations for his departure.