Читать книгу The Riftwar Legacy: The Complete 4-Book Collection - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 24

THE TROLLS LOOKED UP.

James said, ‘Just keep moving slowly, like we know what we’re doing.’

Patrus whispered, ‘Do we know what we’re doing?’

‘Don’t ask,’ Locklear replied.

The trolls were raising weapons and spreading out to fight. James slowed his horse and said, ‘Just keep moving, but be ready.’

The trolls were roughly human in appearance, with almost no necks. Their heads thrust forward from their shoulders, so they always looked as if they were shrugging. James knew their somewhat comical appearance was as far from the truth as it could be. The lowland trolls were little more than beasts, without language or the ability to use tools and weapons. Their mountain cousins were intelligent, if stupid by human standards, and knew how to use weapons. Very well. Their language sounded like grunts and squawks to humans, but they had a social organization and knew how to fight.

As the trolls approached, James held up his hand in greeting. ‘Where is Narab?’ he asked conversationally.

The trolls halted their advance, and looked one to another. They had low foreheads and jutting lower jaws and large teeth, with two lower tusks that protruded up over their upper lips a short way. One turned his head as if listening and said, ‘No Narab here. Who you?’

‘We’re mercenaries; but we’ve been sent to find Narab and find out why you trolls haven’t been paid.’

At the mention of payment, the trolls began an excited conversation. After a few minutes, the first troll to speak – James assumed he was the leader – said, ‘We no fight if we not paid.’

‘That’s the problem,’ said James. He leaned over the neck of his horse and spoke conversationally. ‘Look, I understand. If I were you and weren’t getting paid I wouldn’t fight either. I might even just take my lads and go home, the way this Delekhan’s been treating you.’

‘You pay?’ asked the troll, holding his war club in a suddenly menacing fashion.

James quickly sat back in his saddle, ready to spin his horse away if he saw that weapon moving with any but the most casual purpose. ‘I suppose,’ said James. He turned to Locklear and said, ‘How much gold do you have?’

‘My travel allowance!’ hissed Locklear. ‘A bit more than a hundred good sovereigns.’

James smiled. ‘Give it to them.’

‘What?’

‘Just do it!’ insisted the senior squire.

Locklear took off his belt pouch and tossed it to the troll, who caught it with surprising dexterity. ‘What this?’

‘A hundred golden sovereigns,’ said James.

‘Gold is good,’ said the troll. ‘We work for you now.’

James grinned. ‘Very good; then stay here until we get back. And if anyone is following us, stop them.’

The troll nodded and waved his companions aside so that James could pass. As they moved away from the trolls Locklear said, ‘Why don’t we just buy them all off and send them home?’

James said, ‘Truth to tell, it would be cheaper in the long run. But the dark elves are unlikely to set so low a price.’

Patrus said, ‘Mountain trolls are only one thing more than stupid, boys.’

‘What?’ asked Locklear.

‘They’re greedy. You think that bunch is going to let us just ride past and not ask for more?’

‘No,’ said James, ‘which is why I have this other purse here, in case they do.’

Locklear said, ‘So that’s why you needed my gold? So you could use your own on the way back.’

‘No,’ said James. ‘If we can get back without paying, we will. I had you use your gold, because I didn’t want to give them my gold.’

Locklear snorted and Patrus laughed. They moved along the road and after a while saw a company of riders moving at a leisurely pace along the horizon. ‘We must be getting close,’ said James.

‘Yes, Raglam’s just on the other side of that rise,’ said Patrus.

They plodded along, attempting to look unconcerned and relaxed as they rode into the heart of enemy territory. James had managed many times in his young life to go places he wasn’t supposed to be simply on the strength of looking like he knew where he was going and had a reason for being there, and he hoped that proved as true with dark elves as it had with humans.

They rounded a corner as they topped the rise, and James halted. ‘Gods of mercy!’ he exclaimed.

Engineers were hard at work building siege towers for the walls of Northwarden. ‘Well,’ said Locklear, ‘I don’t think we have to see much more to convince the Baron they are coming this way, do we?’

Patrus walked forward. ‘Let’s see what else they’re up to.’

They passed a bored-looking band of humans, sitting alongside a huge catapult. A moredhel warrior walked toward them. ‘Where are you going?’ he demanded.

James assumed a look of indifference. ‘Where’s Shupik?’

The moredhel said, ‘Who?’

‘Shupik. Our captain. We’re supposed to report to him, but we can’t find his camp.’

‘I have never heard of this Shupik,’ said the moredhel.

Before James said anything, Patrus said, ‘It’s not our fault you’re ignorant, you pointy-eared lily-eater! Get out of our way so we can find our captain, or you can explain to your chieftain why he didn’t get the information we were sent to fetch back here!’

Patrus set off at a brisk walk and James and Locklear moved after him. James gave the moredhel a shrug as he walked past. As they rode on, Locklear muttered, ‘And I thought you were brazen.’

James could barely suppress a laugh. They passed half a dozen towers under construction and James said, ‘Someone did their fieldwork. Those will be hard to get up the road to the keep, but if they can move them quickly enough and they reach the wall, they’ll fit snug up there and get warriors on the wall in quick order.’

Locklear nodded. ‘Nothing like those big lumbering monstrosities at Armengar.’

James nodded. He remembered the huge war engines being pulled across the plains of Sar-Isbandia to the walls of Armengar. Only the brilliance of Guy du Bas-Tyra had kept those machines from reaching the walls time after time. James doubted Baron Gabot would prove as able a defensive general.

As they rode past, Locklear said, ‘Some shallow trenches on the road a half mile or so before the walls might cause them some problems.’

James grinned. ‘Serious problems, especially if we started throwing things down onto the road.’

‘Like boulders?’ asked Patrus, who then began to laugh, a sound that could only be called ‘evil’.

Locklear was openly cheerful as he said, ‘Could be quite a mess.’

As they moved down the road, Locklear said, ‘Say, Patrus, how did you end up here in the middle of this?’

The old magician shrugged. ‘Old Earl Belefote ran me out of Timons for “infecting” his son, as he called it. Like the boy wouldn’t have discovered he had talents without me. Anyway, I wandered a while, up to Salador, where that Duke Laurie was downright hospitable to magicians. But I get bored easily if I don’t have something to occupy myself with, and Laurie said that Gabot had wanted someone up here who knew about magic to advise him about these Dark Brother Spellweavers, so I came up and have been working with the Baron for the last year or so.’

‘What have you discovered about the moredhel Spellweavers?’ asked James.

‘Got some notes back at Northwarden. A lot of little things. Not much that makes sense, at least as I understand magic. I wish I knew more about the elves out in the west, then I might have a better idea about what I’ve learned. When we get back to the castle, I’ll show you what I’ve come up with. But right now,’ he said, pointing ahead, ‘I think we have a problem.’

James slowed down as they approached two bands of warriors, humans on one side and a mix of humans and moredhel on the other. They were involved in a heated exchange and by the time James and his companions reached them, they appeared to be on the verge of open conflict.

‘I don’t care what he says,’ exclaimed the apparent spokesman for the human-only faction. ‘Kroldech isn’t fit to command fleas attacking a dog.’

‘You’re bound by oath! You took gold, human!’ retorted a moredhel war chieftain. ‘You’ll go where you’re ordered, or you’ll be branded traitor.’

‘I signed on with Moraeulf! I took his gold. Where is he?’

‘Moraeulf serves his father, Delekhan, as we all do. Moraeulf is in the west, because his father wills it. If Delekhan places Kroldech at our head, then that is who we’re following.’

James appeared uninterested as they rode by, but he listened to every word.

When they were a short distance past, Locklear said, ‘Dissent in the ranks.’

‘Pity,’ said James, dryly.

James reined in.

‘What is it?’ asked Locklear.

‘Look at that catapult.’

Locklear looked at the war engine. ‘What about it?’

‘Does something about it strike you as funny?’

‘Not particularly,’ said Locklear.

Patrus laughed. ‘You’ll never make general, boy. If you were to move that thing, what would you do first?’

Locklear said, ‘Well, I’d unload it –’ Suddenly Locklear’s eyes widened. ‘It’s loaded?’

‘That’s what your sharp-eyed friend was trying to make you see,’ said Patrus. ‘Not only is it loaded, it’s pointed the wrong way.’

‘And unless I’m mistaken, that rather large rock in the basket end of the arm is sighted to land right over there on that inn.’ James moved his horse’s head around and started riding toward the inn in question.

‘Is this a good idea?’ asked Locklear.

‘Probably not,’ replied James.

As they approached the inn, a pair of moredhel warriors walked toward them. ‘Where do you go, human?’ asked one.

‘Is that headquarters?’ asked James.

‘It is where Kroldech holds camp.’

‘Is Shupik in there with him?’

‘I know of no one named Shupik inside,’ replied the guard.

‘I guess he’s not here yet,’ said James, turning his horse off toward the centre of town.

They rode away and James said, ‘Someone really doesn’t like the idea of Kroldech being in command.’

‘What are you thinking?’ asked Locklear.

‘Locky, my best friend, let’s you, Patrus, and I go and see if we can sow a little dissent.’

Patrus chuckled his evil laugh as they approached another inn. Locklear and James dismounted, tied their horses to a line before the inn, and went inside with the old magician.

Pug sat wearily at his study table, in the small apartment set aside by Arutha for those times when he and Katala visited from Stardock. His eyes grew unfocused as he tried to read yet another report from one of Arutha’s patrols, regarding an encounter with moredhel near Yabon.

He had spent hours sifting through reports, rumours and accounts from soldiers, spies and bystanders regarding the Six, Delekhan’s mysterious magical advisors. The time he had spent with Owyn Belefote discussing his encounter with Nago, and what was before him now convinced Pug of an unsettling possibility.

He stood up and crossed to stand before a window that looked out over the harbour and the Bitter Sea beyond. Whitecaps danced on the sea as cold north winds cut down the coast. In the late-afternoon light, he could see ships racing for the harbour, attempting to reach safe haven before the storm arrived in full fury.

At times like these, Pug wished he had spent more time studying what was commonly known as the Lesser Path. Weather magic was an intrinsic part of that canon. His mind wrestled with a concept, one that he had been formulating for years, since he had returned to Midkemia as the first practitioner of the Great Path, as the Tsurani called their magic. Sometimes he felt as if he was peeling an onion, where every layer revealed only showed another layer below, made all the harder to perceive by the tears in his eyes. Then it hit Pug, it’s always an onion.

He laughed. ‘There is no magic. There are only onions!’

He knew he was too tired to continue, yet he returned to the table. He had come to one frightening conclusion, a possibility he really didn’t want to accept, but it was the only answer. Somewhere along the way, the moredhel had encountered and recruited a new ally.

A soft gong sound caused Pug to look up. The sound was a signal sent by a Tsurani Great One prior to arriving at the domicile of another, but he had not heard such a tone since leaving Kelewan, nine years earlier. He had no pattern here, so how his visitor had located him was a mystery.

The air before him shimmered for a brief instant, then Makala was standing before him. ‘Greetings, Milamber,’ said the Tsurani magician. ‘Forgive the presumption of calling unannounced, but I felt it was time for us to come to an understanding.’

Pug said, ‘How did you manage to arrive here without a pattern?’

Makala said, ‘You are not the only member of the Assembly –’

‘Former member,’ said Pug. Despite the fact of his rank and powers being returned to him after the Riftwar, he had never returned to assume a position among the other members of the Assembly of Great Ones on the Island of Magicians on Kelewan.

‘As you wish. Former member of the Assembly. You are not alone in your ability to progress beyond what many consider to be the conventional limits of our arts. I find that one can move at will to a location or person without the constraints of a pattern.’

‘A useful ability,’ said Pug. ‘I would like to learn how to do it some day.’

‘Perhaps some day you will,’ said Makala. ‘But I came here on another matter.’

Pug indicated a seat. The Tsurani magician declined. ‘I will not be here long. I came to give you warning.’

Pug was silent. He waited and after a moment Makala continued. ‘I and some of our brethren are involved in an undertaking that will not tolerate your interference, Milamber.’

‘Pug,’ he corrected. ‘On this world I am Pug.’

‘To me you will always be Milamber, the barbarian Great One who came to our world and sowed destruction among us.’

Pug sighed. He had thought that particular debate was a decade behind him. ‘You’re not here to revisit the past, Makala. What are you doing and what warning are you trying to convey?’

Makala said, ‘What we are doing is of no concern to you, Milamber. And my warning is: do not attempt to involve yourself in any way.’

Pug was silent a long moment, then said, ‘I know you were among those who were most resistant to my acceptance in the Assembly, all those years ago when Fumita brought me from the Shinzawai estate.’

‘Resistant?’ Makala smiled. ‘I was among those who voted for your death before you entered training. I then considered you a grave risk to the Empire, and from my perspective, subsequent events bore out that suspicion.’

‘Whatever I did, it was, in the end, for the good of the Empire.’

‘Perhaps, but history teaches us that often such issues are merely a question of perspective. No matter. What is occurring now is being done without question for the good of the Empire, as is our mandate.’

Pug said, ‘So then what I was on the verge of uncovering is now revealed to me by your appearance here.’

‘What would that be?’

‘That these magicians aiding Delekhan, the so-called “Six” are Tsurani Great Ones.’

‘I congratulate you on arriving at that conclusion based upon evidence you didn’t gather first hand. Impressive deduction, Milamber. But then Hochopepa always insisted you possessed an unusual mind.’

‘It was easy enough if one paused but a moment to examine the behaviour of the participants in these various acts. The moredhel? They have always held a deep, abiding hatred of all other races, deeming anyone not of their people to be intruders in their domain. The trolls and goblins are often their tools.

‘But when I looked at the pattern, I see gems from the Empire coming to Midkemia and being exchanged for gold. Had the gold returned to Tsuranuanni, there would have been no question, for there the gold is worth a hundred times more than here. But the gold never did. It went for weapons, and those weapons went to the moredhel. There was nothing in this for the Tsurani involved; nothing apparent.

‘Then when reports of the magic used by Delekhan began to appear, things didn’t fit. Some of the things reported could only have been done by Tsurani Great Ones.

‘Which leaves me with this one question: why?’

‘Why is not for you to know. Your judgment is called into question, Milamber. You revealed yourself as not being one of us when you destroyed the Emperor’s celebration and drove the warlord to take his own life in shame. You live here, your birthworld, and you’ve taken a Thuril for your wife.

‘You have a daughter who has shown power, yet you let her live.’

Pug’s eyes narrowed in warning that his temper was about to come to play. ‘Walk softly, Makala! This is not the Empire, and your words are not law.’

‘We have difficulties on both sides of the rift,’ said the Tsurani Great One. ‘Others of our brethren now must deal with the consequences of the destruction of House Minwanabi by House Acoma. The order of the Empire is threatened. And here, on your birthworld, this academy you create at Stardock, why even some of our own have agreed to come teach your students.’ His voice rose in anger. ‘Our former enemies!’

‘We are not your enemies,’ said Pug, his fatigue suddenly threatening to overwhelm him. ‘Ichindar knows this.’

‘The Light of Heaven will not live for ever. Eventually, the Assembly will press for a return to the order we have enjoyed for two thousand years.

‘But to ensure that you, the single biggest threat to our plans, do not interfere, we have arranged to take your daughter to a place where she will remain until such time we are satisfied you are no longer a threat.’

Pug’s anger threatened to spill over. Barely able to hold back rage, Pug choked, ‘Gamina! What have you done with her?’

‘She is unharmed. She will remain safe as long as you do not attempt to hinder our plans.’

‘Your plans involve murder on a wholesale scale if you’re in league with the moredhel, Makala! Can you think I’d stand aside, even if it means my daughter’s life, and let you destroy my homeland?’ He moved to stand before the Tsurani Great One. ‘And do you think to match your power with mine?’

‘Never, Milamber. You are the greatest of our brethren, which is why you must be neutralized. But if you destroy me, there are others who will see that what must be done is done. We will not oppose you if you seek to reach your daughter.’ He stepped aside and said, ‘In fact, we will provide you with means to go to her, but I warn you this might prove a mistake, as even your daunting prowess will not prevail in returning you here.’

‘Let me go to her,’ Pug said, his fear for his daughter washing away his fatigue. ‘As soon as I write a note to my wife.’

‘No,’ said Makala. ‘If you go, you go now.’ He took out a device, similar to a Tsurani transportation orb, but somehow different. He put it down. ‘There is only one position, Milamber. It will take you to your daughter, but only if you leave within a minute of my activating it.’ He clicked a slide on the side of it, and put it down on the pile of maps. ‘That minute begins now.’ He turned and walked away, producing another device and as he held his hand out to activate it, he said, ‘My motives are for the good of the Empire, Milamber. I have never harboured any personal ill-will toward you. That is for lesser men. At the end of this, I hope you and your family are well, but if you oppose me, I will see you all destroyed, for the good of the Empire.’ He vanished.

Pug grabbed a quill, dipped it in ink, and swept away all the papers and parchment on his desk, but one, a map upon the back of which he hastily penned six words. Then he dropped the quill and grabbed a writing charcoal, two pieces of parchment, and seized the device left by Makala, and with a fey humming, a high-pitched whine, the device activated, and he was gone, leaving only shifting papers on the floor as outside the window, the fury of the storm broke upon Krondor.

The inn was crowded, dirty and noisy, with men on the verge of brawling at the least excuse. James stood at the bar grinning.

‘What are you so happy about?’ whispered Locklear.

‘I’m home, Locky. I’ve missed places like this.’

‘You’re crazy, boy,’ said Patrus. ‘You looking to die young?’

‘I’ll tell you about some of the places I spent my time in when I was a kid, some day. Right now I’m just enjoying the prospect of this bunch being the ones heading south in a few weeks.’

‘Something’s not right,’ whispered Locklear. ‘This isn’t an army; it’s rabble.’

‘Locky, let’s get some fresh air.’

He led his companions from the inn and outside. Evening had fallen, cold and damp, with a mist of rain starting to fall. When he saw they weren’t overheard, James said, ‘Everywhere I look I see wall fodder, with a few moredhel clans I would wager are not high on Delekhan’s list of close friends.’

‘Wall fodder,’ chuckled Patrus. ‘I like that.’

‘Not if you’d ever had to be the first over the wall,’ said Locklear who had stood on the walls at Armengar and Highcastle with James and watched warriors die trying to do just that.

‘Where’s the army?’ asked James rhetorically.

‘Moving toward us, even as we speak,’ replied Locklear humorously.

‘We might have a better idea if we knew what Kroldech knows.’

‘Well, then,’ suggested Patrus, ‘why don’t we just go ask him?’

James said, ‘Or I could sneak in and see what he’s got lying around that looks like orders.’

‘You read that moredhel chicken scratching, boy?’ asked the magician.

James lost his smile. ‘No, I hadn’t thought about that.’ Orders from Delekhan to his field commander would be in that language, not the King’s Tongue.

Patrus grinned. ‘Well, I can.’

‘How?’ asked Locklear. ‘Who taught you to read moredhel?’

‘No one,’ said the magician with a look of disgust on his face.

‘Oh!’ said Locklear, suddenly getting it. ‘Magic!’

Rolling his eyes, Patrus said, ‘Right, magic.’ With a playful slap to the back of Locklear’s head, he added, ‘Idiot.’

James said, ‘I think we have a problem, still.’

‘What?’ asked Patrus. ‘You sneak in, get the papers, bring them out, I’ll read them, you sneak in, put them back, and we leave.’

‘That’s the problem,’ said James. ‘I should be able to sneak in and out, once, but the second time? And if the plans are removed and found missing, they’ll change them, almost certainly.’

‘How many ways can they march down that pass and up to the walls of the keep?’ asked Locklear.

‘Several,’ said James, ‘and if we are ready for one, and they come a different way, well, even this rabble could create problems enough to cost us dearly.’ He shook his head in frustration. ‘Damn.’

They kept walking, not wishing to have anyone see them lingering. While most of the camp in the town was either asleep or drinking in one of the several taverns in Raglam, there were enough soldiers around to view with suspicion anyone loitering.

Locklear said, ‘What if we could have a reason for being in there looking through the papers?’

‘What?’

Locklear grinned. ‘I have an idea.’

James said, ‘I usually end up not liking it when you say that.’

‘Come on,’ said the younger squire. ‘This is brilliant.’

‘Oh, I really don’t like it when you say that.’

Locklear crossed the largest street along the south end of town, and moved to the open field where the catapult aimed at town sat. A company of engineers lay sleeping at the base of the engine, and Locklear signalled for silence. He tiptoed to where the massive war engine sat and inspected it from a few feet away. Then he looked around on the ground until he found a rock the size of his fist. He pointed to the machine and in a whisper asked, ‘Do you think you could hit that release lever from here?’

James looked a moment and said, ‘No, but I could hit it from over there.’ He pointed to a location the same distance from the catapult but at a different angle. ‘I think you mean could I hit it and make it release?’

Showing frustration, Locklear said, ‘Yes, that’s what I mean. Go stand over there, and when I signal you, count to one hundred. Then throw the rock and release the lever.’

‘And what about the lashings?’

‘I’ll take care of that. Patrus, come with me.’

Locklear took the old magician and said, ‘Walk around over there –’ he pointed to a location on the other side of where the engineers lay sleeping ‘– and wait for me.’

Patrus headed off to do as he was bid, and when he saw James hadn’t moved, Locklear shooed him away with a fluttering hand. James shook his head in disbelief, but he went where he was told to go.

Locklear crept close to the catapult and looked at the large restraining rope across the mighty engine’s arm. If it wasn’t in place, only the lever and gear arrangement kept the huge arm from discharging its deadly missile. As silently as possible, Locklear took his dagger and cut through the rope. It took several tense moments, as he sawed through the huge bundle of fibres, watching to see if any of the engineers stirred.

When the rope was severed, he moved away and quickly circled around the camp. He went to Patrus, took the old man by the arm and led him off into the dark. Just as he was about to vanish from sight, he signalled to James.

James, still not knowing what Locklear’s plan was going to accomplish, counted to one hundred. When he reached seventy, he heard voices raised in the distance. When he reached ninety, he heard feet running in his direction. Not waiting to reach one hundred, at ninety-two he threw the rock. With his keen eye and strong arm, he put the stone right where it needed to be, knocking loose the lever. With a loud crash, the huge arm unloaded its stone, slamming hard against the crossbeam at the top of its arc. The sound instantly awoke the engineers who leaped to their feet, shouting. ‘What was that? What? Who did that?’

Just then Patrus and Locklear arrived with a company of moredhel warriors. ‘There they are!’ shouted Locklear. ‘They tried to kill Kroldech!’

The warriors rushed forward while the still-stunned engineers milled around in mute astonishment. That lasted but a moment, then suddenly they were yelling at the moredhel guards, who were accusing them of treason.

Locklear took Patrus by the arm and hurried to James’s side, while shouts and confusion came from the other side of the town.

‘What did you tell them, Locky?’

‘Just that this concerned old man, out looking for his lost cat, had come across this nest of traitors who were training their catapult on the commander’s house, and he didn’t know who to turn to, so I was bringing him over to that loyal bunch there.’

‘Are they loyal?’ asked James with a laugh.

Locklear returned the laugh. ‘How do I know? Even if they’re part of the faction trying to kill Kroldech, they’re going to be all over those engineers for not waiting to do it when they were told.’

James spoke in appreciative tones. ‘Damn, but you can be a sneaky bastard at times.’

‘I take that as high praise, considering the source,’ said Locklear.

They reached the area around Kroldech’s headquarters and James said, ‘I think I know what to do.’

He pushed through confused-looking soldiers and townspeople, saying, ‘Stand away! Let us through.’

When he got to where he could see the damage he had to stop a moment in amazement. The stone had crashed through the centre of the roof, crushing the upper floor and collapsing it down on the second floor. The main doors were off their hinges. ‘Damn, those guys were good,’ whispered James in appreciation of the engineers’ skill.

Then he realized he wasn’t moving, and James said, ‘We’ve got to save the commander!’

He waved at a few warriors nearby and said, ‘Help us find the commander!’

They followed and James led them into the ruins of the inn. Several stunned warriors lay sprawled on the floor, and James had to duck under cracked and fallen ceiling beams, which were now only five feet above the floor in the commons. ‘Where’s the commander?’ he asked one.

‘He was over there, at his place in the rear of the commons,’ said a moredhel warrior with blood running down his face.

Turning to those moredhel who had followed James inside, he said, ‘Get these warriors outside to safety.’ Pointing at Patrus and Locklear as if they were just two among many, he said, ‘You and you, come with me and help me find the commander.’

They had to crawl under a beam. After a minute of negotiating their way in the gloom, they came to the room used by the commander. The door was off the hinges, and they had to climb over a fallen beam, but they got inside.

Two moredhel, killed by flying timber splinters the size of arrows, lay on the floor near the door. But behind a table crouched a moredhel, whimpering in terror, but otherwise uninjured. From the rings on his fingers and the golden amulet around his neck, James deduced he was the commander. He lay curled up and obviously shocked to near mindlessness.

‘Not what one expects in a moredhel chieftain,’ observed Locklear.

‘Get him outside, Locky,’ said James, ‘but take your time, Patrus and I will see what we can save from the fire.’

‘What fire?’ asked Locklear.

James took paper and handed it to Patrus. ‘Is this important?’

The magician closed his eyes a moment, then opened them. He looked at the document and said, ‘No.’ James took a shattered lantern, and dipped the paper in it. Then he produced a flint and steel from his belt pouch and struck sparks on the paper. It ignited. Taking the burning paper from Patrus, he pointed to it with his other hand and said, ‘That fire.’

Locklear grinned. ‘Oh.’ He pulled on Kroldech’s arm and said, ‘Commander, we must flee! Fire!’

That seemed to energize the stunned moredhel chieftain. He let Locklear help him to his feet and said something in his native tongue.

‘Come with me, Commander,’ Locklear repeated. He led Kroldech away.

Patrus and James quickly examined papers, and each one that Patrus gave James that wasn’t important, James added to the growing fire.

Finally, he said, ‘This. This is the attack plan.’

‘Read it to me,’ said James, ‘quickly.’

Patrus did and James forced himself to remember every word as it was being read. ‘I have it. Now, grab up some other papers and follow me.’

The fire was now burning in earnest, and by the time they reached the point where they had to crawl under the timbers, it was getting hot. Just as flames erupted through the roof they reached safety outside and found Locklear holding up the still-wobbly commander.

Reaching them, James said, ‘Master! We managed to save these papers.’ He held out the entire random bundle of papers.

Kroldech’s eyes focused and at last he understood what happened. ‘Assassins!’ he shouted. ‘They tried to kill me.’

‘They are in custody,’ said the moredhel chieftain, who had been alerted by Locklear. ‘These mercenaries saved you, master.’

Kroldech grabbed the papers from James and started inspecting them. After a moment, he came to the orders of battle, and smiled. ‘Good!’ He struck James on the arm, hard enough to hurt. ‘You are heroes!’ He stuck the battle plan under James’s nose. ‘Do you know what this is?’

James feigned ignorance. ‘No. We just grabbed what we could, master.’

‘If this had been lost, I would have had to redraw all our plans. You’ve saved me days of labour.’ Looking at the fire, he said, ‘And you saved my life. I am in your debt.’

‘Think nothing of it,’ said James.

‘Nonsense,’ said Kroldech. ‘Come to me tomorrow and I will reward you.’

‘Thank you, master,’ said James. ‘We will.’

The still-shaken moredhel leader allowed himself to be escorted away to new quarters as James turned to Locklear and said, ‘Where’s Patrus?’

‘He was with you. Maybe he’s over where our horses are waiting?’

They walked to where their horses were waiting. Patrus had a third horse and was mounting it. Locklear said, ‘Kroldech said we’re heroes. Wants us to come by tomorrow and collect a reward.’

‘You going to hang around for the reward, James?’ asked the old magician.

‘When trolls can fly. By tomorrow morning, I want to be halfway to Northwarden.’

As all eyes were on the burning inn, they slipped out of town, and managed to get down the road before being challenged. The bored-looking mercenary asked what they were doing on the road late at night and James said, ‘The elves can’t handle those trolls down south, so we’re being sent to sort them out.’

‘Heard there was some trouble down there,’ said the guard. ‘Good luck.’

‘Thanks,’ said James.

After they were out of earshot, Locklear said, ‘Patrus! Where did you get that horse?’

‘I borrowed it,’ said the old magician with a cackle. ‘Kroldech won’t miss it until tomorrow.’

Locklear’s only satisfaction on the way back was that James had to spend his pouch of gold to get past the trolls, but at least the trolls thought of them as friends now. The ride was difficult, as the weather had turned very cold and wet. The horses were tiring, and had to be walked at times.

Eventually they reached the road up to the keep and James said, ‘Where are our soldiers?’

Locklear said, ‘I thought some of the forward elements might be trying to keep out of the rain, but you’re right. We should have seen others by now.’

James set his heels hard against his horse’s sides and was off at a canter, demanding as much as the fatigued animal could give going up the steep road to the keep. When they were within sight of the keep, they saw the gate was up and the portcullis down, and torches burned on the walls.

‘They’ve crawled inside and buttoned up!’ said Locklear.

Reaching the edge of the moat, James called out, ‘Hello the castle!’

From above a sentry shouted, ‘Who goes there?’

‘Squire James, Squire Locklear and Patrus. Let us in.’

There was some discussion, but eventually the massive bridge was lowered while the iron lattice of the portcullis was raised. James and the others rode across the drawbridge.

Inside the barbican, a group of soldiers waited, and James dismounted. ‘What is wrong?’ he demanded.

A soldier said, ‘Assassins, squire. Nighthawks in the castle.’

Locklear said, ‘What has happened?’

‘Baron Gabot is dead, squire. Two captains, and our sergeant.’

‘Gods,’ said Locklear.

‘Who’s in charge?’ asked James.

The soldiers exchanged glances, and finally one said, ‘You are, squire.’