Читать книгу The Complete Krondor’s Sons 2-Book Collection: Prince of the Blood, The King’s Buccaneer - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 13

DUST SWIRLED.

Twenty-four riders moved at a steady pace along the edge of the Great Star Lake. A week and a half of hard riding had taken them southward from Krondor, to Landreth on the north coast of the Sea of Dreams. Then, from where it entered the sea, the Star River led them further southward, the rugged mountains of the Grey Range always in sight as they entered the lush Vale of Dreams. Years of border wars between the Kingdom and the Empire had seen this rich farming land changing hands many times. Those who lived in this part of the world spoke the languages of the Southern Kingdom and the Northern Empire with equal fluency. And the sight of twenty-four armed mercenaries evoked no notice. Many armed bands of men rode the vale.

At the midpoint of the river, near a small waterfall, they forded the currents, making for the south shore. Upon reaching the headwaters of the Star River, the Great Star Lake, they turned to track the shoreline southward, seeking that point closest to the island dominating the centre of the lake, Stardock. There they would find the ferry that provided passage from the shore to the island.

Along the banks of the shore they passed tiny fishing and farming villages, often no more than an extended family, little groups of huts and cottages, but all looking prosperous and well tended. The community of magicians upon Stardock had grown over the years, and now other communities had developed to meet the demands for food of those upon the island.

Borric urged his horse forward, as they rounded a small promontory of land, bringing them their first clear view of the large building upon the island. It nearly shone in the orange light of the sunset, while the advancing night behind turned the distant sky violet and grey. ‘Gods and demons, Uncle Jimmy, look at the size of that place!’

James nodded. ‘I had heard they were building a massive centre for learning, but the tales never did it justice.’

Locklear said, ‘Duke Gardan visited here many years ago. He told me they had laid a huge foundation for the building … but this is larger than anything I’ve seen.’

Glancing at the falling light, James said, ‘If we hurry, we’ll make the island within the next two hours. I’d rather a warm meal and clean bed than another night on the trail.’ Setting heels to his horse’s sides, he moved on.

Under a canopy of brilliant stars on one of the rare nights when all three moons had yet to rise, they passed through a small gap between hillocks and entered a prosperous-looking town. Torches and lanterns blazed at every storefront – an extravagance in all but the wealthiest of towns and cities – and children ran after them, shouting and laughing in the general confusion. Beggars and prostitutes asked favours or offered them respectively, and ramshackle taverns stood open to provide the weary traveller with a cool drink, hot meal, and warm company.

Locklear shouted over the noise, ‘Quite a prosperous little metropolis growing here.’

James glanced about at the dirt and squalor. ‘Quite. The blessings of civilization,’ he observed.

Borric said, ‘Perhaps we should investigate one of these small pubs—’

‘No,’ answered James. ‘They’re certain to offer you refreshments at the Academy.’

Erland smiled ruefully. ‘A sweet and slightly feeble wine, no doubt. What else would one expect from an assemblage of old scholars, poking around in musty piles of manuscripts.’

James shook his head. They came to what was obviously the crossroads of the two main streets in the town and turned toward the lake. As James expected, down near the waterfront a large pier had been constructed and several ferries of differing sizes waited to haul goods and people to the island. Despite the late hour, workers still stacked sacks of grain against the need of hauling them the next morning.

Reining in, James called down to the nearest ferryman, ‘Good evening. We seek passage to Stardock island.’

A face, dominated by a hawk-beaked nose, with ill-cut bangs almost hiding the eyes, was revealed as the man glanced over his shoulder and said, ‘I can make one quick run across, sir. Five coppers a man, sir, but you need stable your horses here.’

Jimmy smiled. ‘How about ten gold pieces for the lot of us, including the mounts?’

The man returned to his work. ‘No bargaining, sir.’

Borric rattled his sword a bit as he said, half-jokingly, ‘What, you turn your back upon us?’

The man turned again to face them. Touching his forehead, in slightly sarcastic tones, he said, ‘Sorry, young sir, but no disrespect was intended.’

Borric was about to respond, when James tapped his arm with a gloved hand and pointed. In the gloom, just out of the light of a guttering torch, a young man in a plain robe of homespun sat at the dockside watching the interplay calmly.

Borric said, ‘What?’

‘The local constable, I expect.’

‘Him?’ said Borric. ‘He looks more a beggar or monk than any sort of fighting man.’

The ferryman nodded. ‘Right you are, sir. He’s our Peacekeeper.’ He grinned up at James. ‘You know your way around, sir. Yes, you do. That’s one of the magicians from the island. The council that runs the place keeps it peaceful-like over here in Stardock Town, so they make sure that we have the means. He has no sword, young sir,’ he said to Borric, ‘but with a wave of his hand he can stun you worse than a poleaxe to the noggin. Believe me, sir, I found that out the hard way.’ His voice falling to a near mutter, he added, ‘Or, it could be the magic what sets you to itching so bad you wish to die …’ Returning to the topic at hand, he raised his voice, ‘And as far as hagglin’, sir, as much as I do enjoy a good round of lying about how much injury a good profit does my children’s diet, the fact is the Academy sets the rates.’ He scratched his chin. ‘Suppose you could haggle with that young spellcaster over there, but I expect he’ll tell you the same. Given the traffic back and forth, the prices are fair.’

‘Where is the stable?’ James asked, but just then several small boys pushed from the crowd and offered to take their horses.

‘The boys will see your mounts to a clean stable.’ James nodded and dismounted. The other riders followed suit. Instantly, small hands removed reins from James’s grasp as other children did likewise throughout the company. ‘Very well,’ said James, ‘but see they have clean stalls and fresh hay and oats. And have a farrier check shoes, will you?’

James ceased his commentary as something caught his eye. He turned abruptly, reached out, and yanked a small boy away from Borric’s horse. James lifted the boy off the ground and looked him hard in the eyes. ‘Give it back,’ he said with a calm note of menace. The boy began to protest, then when James shook him for emphasis, thought better of it and held out a small coin purse to Borric. Borric’s mouth opened as he patted himself down and then accepted the purse.

James put the boy down but held onto his shirt front, then leaned down so he was eye to eye with the would-be cutpurse. ‘Boy, before I was half your size I knew more than twice what you’ll ever know about thieving. Do you believe me?’ The boy could only nod, so frightened was he at discovery. ‘Then take my word on the matter. You haven’t the knack. You’ll end up at the end of a short rope waiting for a long drop before you’re twelve if you keep this up. Find an honest trade. Now, if anything is missing when we leave, I’ll know who to look for, won’t I?’ The boy nodded again.

James sent him scurrying and turned to the ferryman. ‘Then it’ll be twenty-four of us on foot to the island.’

At this, the young magician rose to his feet and said, ‘It’s not often we have armed soldiers come to the Academy. May I ask your business?’

‘You may ask,’ said James. ‘But we’ll save our answers for another. If we need your permission, send word to the magician Pug that old friends come to call.’

The young magician raised an eyebrow. ‘Who should I tell him comes to call?’

James smiled, ‘Tell him … Baron James of Krondor, and …’ he glanced at the twins, ‘some of his kinsmen.’

A small group waited to welcome the company as the ferry came to rest against the shore with a bump. A loading dock was the only sign that this was the entrance to perhaps the strangest community upon Midkemia, the Academy of Magicians. Workers aided the soldiers as they negotiated the dock. Many were unsteady after their first ride on a flat-bottomed ferry. Lanterns hung from the dock posts, illuminating the welcoming committee.

A short man of middle years, wearing only a black robe and sandals, was at the centre of the group. To his right stood a striking, dark-skinned woman with iron-grey hair. An old man in robes stood to his left, a large huntsman in leather tunic and trousers at his shoulder. Behind them two younger men, attired in robes, waited patiently.

As James, Locklear, and the twins stepped off the ferry, the short man stepped forward and bowed slightly. ‘Your Highnesses honour us.’ Then he said, ‘Welcome to Stardock.’

Borric and Erland stepped forward, and awkwardly held out their hands to exchange a less formal hello with the man. While they were Princes born, used to some degree of deference and awe at their rank at times, here before them stood a man legends and tales had grown around. ‘Cousin Pug,’ Borric said, ‘thank you for receiving us.’

The magician smiled and everyone relaxed. Though nearly forty-eight years old, he looked a man in his early thirties. Brown eyes almost shone with warmth and, despite his age, the dark beard couldn’t hide an expression that was almost boyish. This youthful face could not belong to the man reputed to be the single most powerful individual in the world.

Erland and he quickly exchanged greetings, and James stepped forward. ‘Lord Pug …’ James began.

‘Just Pug, James.’ He smiled. ‘Around here we have little use for formal titles within our community. Despite King Lyam’s generous intentions in creating a tiny duchy out of Stardock and naming me its lord and master, we rarely think of such things.’ He took James by the arm. ‘Come; you remember my wife?’

James and his companions bowed slightly and took the woman’s slender hand. Upon close inspection, James was surprised at how delicate the woman looked. He hadn’t seen her for over seven years, but she had been a robust, healthy woman in her early forties, with suntanned cheeks and raven dark hair. Now she looked ten years her husband’s senior. ‘My Lady,’ said James, bowing over her hand.

The woman smiled and years vanished from her. ‘Just Katala, James. How is our son?’

James grinned. ‘William is happy. He is Acting Captain of Arutha’s Guard. He is well thought of, and I expect will hold the office when Valdis steps down. He’s a fine officer and will rise high, perhaps even to Knight-Marshal someday.’

Katala said, ‘And … otherwise?’

James’s smile faded. ‘He pays court to several lovely ladies of the Princess’s retinue.’ For a brief instant Katala’s expression lightened. ‘But no one holds his interest, I’m afraid.’ Katala’s face turned sombre again. Nothing more need be said; Katala, Pug, and James remembered the young woman who had been very dear to William, a young woman lost in serving the Kingdom. Softly James said, ‘That wound doesn’t seem to heal, does it?’

Pug said, ‘He should be here.’ Seeing his wife’s features darken, he said, ‘I know, dearest, we have put that argument to rest. Now,’ he said to the Princes, ‘may I present the others?’

When Borric nodded, Pug said, ‘I think you boys will remember Kulgan, my old teacher. And Meecham, who oversees our community’s food stores and a thousand other tasks.’ The two men named both bowed, and Borric and Erland shook each hand in turn. The old magician who had been Pug’s teacher moved with difficulty, aided by a cane and the hand of the other man.

Meecham, a powerful-looking man of advancing years, scolded the old magician like a nagging wife. ‘You should have stayed in your room …’

Kulgan shook off the aiding hand as Erland moved to take Borric’s place before Pug’s old master. ‘I’m old, Meecham, not dying.’ The man’s hair was white as winter’s first snow, and the skin was lined and tanned like old leather. But the blue eyes were still bright and alert. ‘Your Highness,’ he said to Erland.

The Prince smiled back. As boys they had delighted in Kulgan’s visits, for the old magician had entertained them with stories punctuated by small feats of magic. ‘Seems we’re informal, here. Uncle Kulgan. It’s good to see you again. It’s been too long.’

The two younger men behind were unknown to James. Pug said, ‘These are leaders in our community and were among the first of those to come to Stardock to learn the Greater Magic. They are teachers of others, now. This is Korsh.’ The first man, tall and bald, bowed slightly to the Princes. His eyes shone brightly in contrast to his very dark skin, and gold earrings hung to his shoulders.

The second man looked nearly the twin of the first, save for a full black beard, oiled to ringlets which hung loosely from his cheeks. ‘And his brother, Watume.’

Pug said, ‘You must all be tired from your journey.’ He glanced around. ‘I was expecting our daughter, Gamina, to join us, but she is helping to feed the children and I suppose she was detained. You’ll meet her soon enough.

‘Now, to your quarters. We have rooms for you in the Academy. You’ve missed supper, but we’ll have hot food delivered to your room. In the morning, we can visit.’

The small company moved up the shoreline, to where they could see past the monstrous building that dominated the island. Fully forty stories tall at points, its central focus was a lofty spire that reached another hundred feet above the roof. It seemed little more than an un-railed stairway around a column, topped by a tiny platform. It was illuminated by an odd blue light which shone from below, so that it seemed to almost float upward, rather than be a thing of stone and mortar.

‘Everyone is struck by the sight of our Tower of Testing,’ Pug remarked. ‘That is where those of the Greater Path learn their first mastery, and leave their apprenticeship behind.’

The two dark-skinned brothers cleared their throats in a meaningful way and Pug smiled. ‘Some of us have differing feelings as to how much “outsiders” should be allowed to know.’

Rounding the shore, they saw a rather busy town at the other end of the building. Cleaner than its twin upon the shoreline, it was still its equal in activity. Despite the advancing hour, many people were in the streets upon one errand or another. ‘Stardock Town,’ said Katala, pride evident in her voice.

Locklear said, ‘I thought the town upon the shore was Stardock Town.’

Pug said, ‘So those who live there call it. But this is the true town upon the island of Stardock. This is where many of our brothers and sisters in magic live. Here is where their families abide. Here we have built a haven for those who have been driven from their communities by fear and hatred.’ Pug motioned for his guests to enter the main Academy building through a large double door and escorted them inside. At an intersection of two halls, most of the welcoming committee bid the guests good night, while Pug led the travellers down to a series of doors upon each side of a long hall. ‘We’re lacking in regal accommodations, I’m afraid,’ he said, ‘but these guest cells are warm, dry, and comfortable. You’ll find a basin for washing, and if you leave your dirty travel clothing outside, someone will see it is washed. The garderobe is at the far end of the hall. Now, rest well and we’ll have a long talk in the morning.’

Pug bid them good night and the twins quickly found the food waiting for them in their cells. Up and down the hall the night was full of the noise of soldiers shedding travelling armour and arms, splashing water, and the clink of knives against serving plates. Soon all were gone from the hall, save a puzzled-looking Locklear standing next to James. ‘What ails you?’

James shrugged. ‘Nothing, I guess. Tired, or …’ he let his voice trail off. He thought of Kulgan’s age and Katala’s less than healthy appearance. ‘It’s just that the years have not been kind to some fine people.’ Then his manner brightened, ‘Or it could be my youthful crimes coming back to haunt me. I’m just not comfortable with the idea of spending the night in any room referred to as a “cell”.’

With a wry smile and a nod of agreement, Locklear bid his companion good night. A moment later, James stood alone in the long, empty hall. Something was not right. But he left that feeling for the next day. Now he needed food and a wash.

With the sound of a bird chirping outside his window, James was awake. As was his habit, the young Baron of the Prince’s court rose before the sun. To his surprise, he discovered his clothing had been washed and folded and left just inside his door. A light sleeper by nature and quick to full wakefulness by training, he was discomforted that anyone could have opened his door and not disturbed him. James pulled on the clean tunic and trousers, foregoing the heavy travelling boots. Since childhood he had preferred bare feet, and over the years it had become something of a common joke among the palace staff that should one enter Baron James’s office, one was likely to find his boots removed and tucked away under his desk.

He made his way to the outer doorway, moving soundlessly. He was certain that everyone else was still asleep, but his stealth was not born of consideration, it was habitual. As a boy in the Poor Quarter of the city, James had earned his livelihood as a thief, and moving without sound was second nature.

Opening the outside door, he slipped through and closed it silently behind. The sky had already turned slate grey and the eastern horizon was showing the blush of the approaching sunrise. The only sounds were the calling of birds and the thud of a single axe falling, as someone cut wood for an early morning fire. James moved away from the huge building of the Academy and made his way along the path that led to the village.

The sound of wood being cut fell away as that unknown farmer or fisherman’s wife finished the task. After a hundred yards, the path diverged, one part heading toward the village while a smaller path led toward the lakeshore. James decided he was in little mood for idle morning chatter with townspeople, so he moved toward the water.

In the gloom he almost didn’t see the black-robed figure until he was nearly upon him. Pug turned and smiled. He pointed eastward. ‘This is my favourite part of the day.’

James nodded. ‘I thought I’d be the first up.’

Pug kept his eyes fastened upon the horizon. ‘No, I sleep very little.’

‘The wear doesn’t show. I don’t think you look a day older than when I last saw you seven years ago.’

Pug nodded. ‘There are things about myself I am just discovering, James. When I took upon myself the mantel of Sorcerer…’ his voice trailed off. ‘We’ve never really talked, have we?’

James shook his head. ‘We’ve had our share of interesting conversations, Pug, but not about anything profound, if that’s what you mean. Not anything that wasn’t related to the business of the state, is what I’m saying. It’s not exactly as if our paths cross frequently. We first met at Arutha and Anita’s wedding,’ he ticked off on his fingers as he spoke, ‘and again after the battle at Sethanon.’ Both men glanced at each other and nothing needed to be said between them about the cataclysmic battle that had taken place there. ‘Then twice since in Krondor.’ Neither spoke of the last two encounters, for not only had state secrets involving a secret society of assassins and then a mission to recover a stolen Ishapian artefact of critical importance, and dark magic been involved, but they had lost someone special to them both, a student of Pug’s who had become a close friend of James’s.

Pug returned his attention to the east, where the first hot pink and orange of the sun’s rays struck the clouds. ‘When I was a boy I lived in Crydee. I was nothing more than a Far Coast peasant lad. I worked in the kitchen with my foster family and had ambitions to be a soldier.’ He fell silent.

James waited. He had little desire to talk about his past, though it was well enough known to anyone of rank in the city of Krondor, and to everyone in the palace. ‘I was a thief.’

‘Jimmy the Hand,’ said Pug. ‘Yes, but what sort of boy were you?’

James considered the question for a moment, then answered. ‘Brash. That’s the first word that comes to mind.’ He watched as the dawn unfolded. Neither man spoke for several minutes as each saw the fingers of light striking the clouds hanging in the east. The fiery rim of the disc of the sun began to appear. James said, ‘I … was also foolish at times. Remind me sometime to tell you the story about how I almost destroyed half the keep in Krondor when Guy du Bas-Tyra was Viceroy: one of my first lessons in why it’s wise to leave magic to magicians.’ James grinned, then his smile faded and at last he sighed. ‘I had no idea of there being any limit to what I could do. I have no doubt that had I continued that existence, I’d have finally taken one big chance too many. I’d most likely be dead by now.’

‘Brash,’ Pug repeated. ‘And foolish at times.’ He indicated with his head the Academy. Not unlike the royal twins.’

James smiled. ‘Not unlike the Princes, though they lack any sense of true risk, I fear. I knew from my earliest days that any misstep could end my life. They are convinced they will live forever.’

‘What else?’

James considered. Without false modesty, he said, ‘Brilliant, I suppose you could say, or gifted at least. Things often seemed obvious to me that confused many of those around me. At least the world seemed a more obvious place then. I’m not so sure I wasn’t a great deal smarter as a boy than I am now as a man.’

Pug motioned that James should walk with him and started slow progress toward the water’s edge. ‘When I was a boy, my modest ambitions seemed the most splendid things. Now …’

‘You seem troubled,’ James ventured.

‘Not as you would understand it,’ Pug answered. James turned and in the grey light saw an unreadable expression on Pug’s face. ‘Tell me of the attempt upon Borric. You were closest to him.’

James said, ‘News travels fast.’

‘It always does. And any coming conflict between the Kingdom and Kesh is of concern for us.’

‘Given your location, I can understand. You are a window upon the Empire.’ He gestured south, toward the not-distant border. James told Pug what he knew of the attempt, and finished by saying, ‘That the assassin was Keshian is hardly in doubt, but all those clues that point to the Royal House of Kesh being at the root of the attempt … it’s too clear. I think someone seeks to dupe us.’ He turned as they lost sight of the town, regarding the upper stories of the Academy. ‘You have many Keshians here?’

Pug nodded. ‘And from Roldem, Queg, Olasko, Miskalon, the Peaks of the Quor, and other places. Here we pay little attention to matters of nation. We are concerned with other issues.’

James said, ‘Those two who met with us last night …’

‘Watume and Korsh, yes. They are Keshian. From the city of Kesh itself.’ Before James could speak, Pug said, ‘They are not Imperial agents. I would know. Trust me. They think nothing of politics. In fact, if anything, they are too eager for us to be apart from the rest of the world.’

James turned for a moment, to regard the hulking edifice of the Academy. ‘This is a Kingdom duchy, at least in name. But many have wondered aloud what it is you build here. There is something about this place that strikes many in the court as odd.’

‘And dangerous,’ Pug added. James turned to study the magician’s face. ‘Which is why I work diligently to see that the Academy never partakes in national conflicts. On any side.’

James considered his words. ‘There are few among the nobility who are as comfortable with the idea of magic as our King and his brother. Growing up with Kulgan in the household as they did, they think nothing about it. But others …’

‘Still would see us driven from cities and towns, or hung, or burned at stakes. I know,’ Pug said. ‘In the twenty years we have worked here, much has changed … yet so little has changed.’

Finally James said, ‘Pug, I feel something odd in you. I detected it last night. What is it?’

Pug’s eyes narrowed as he studied James. ‘Strange you should observe that, when those closest to me don’t see it.’ He reached the edge of the lake and halted. With an outstretched hand, he pointed. A family of snowy egrets were preening themselves and squawking in the shallow of the lake. ‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’

James could only agree as he took in his surroundings. ‘This is a beautiful place.’

‘It wasn’t so when I first came here,’ answered Pug. ‘The legend is that this lake was formed by a falling star, hence its name. But this island was not the cooled body of that star, which I calculate could have been no larger than this.’ He held his hands apart about six inches. ‘I think the star cracked the crust of the earth and lava rose up to create this island. It was rocky and barren when I first came here, with only a bit of tenacious grass at the water’s edge, and a few hearty bushes here and there. I brought what you see here, the grass, the trees, the animals.’ He grinned, and years vanished from his face. ‘The birds found their own way over.’

James considered the groves of trees nearby and the deep meadow grass he saw everywhere. ‘A not inconsiderable feat.’

Pug waved away the comment as if it was a common enough conjurer’s trick. ‘Will there be war?’

James let out an audible sigh. It held the sound of resignation. ‘That’s the question, isn’t it?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘No, that’s not the question. There is always war. The question is when and between which nations? If I have any say in the matter, there’ll be no war between the Kingdom and Kesh in my lifetime. But then, I may not have much to say about the matter.’

‘You ride a dangerous course.’

‘It’s not the first time. I wish circumstances could have spared the Princes the need to go.’

‘They are their father’s sons,’ observed Pug. ‘They must go where duty requires. Even if it means risking much to gain little.’

Pug resumed his walk along the shore and James fell into step at his side.

James could only nod at that. ‘Such is the burden of their birthright.’

‘Well,’ said Pug, ‘there are short respites, such as this one, along the way. Why don’t you go over there?’ He pointed to a stand of willow trees masking the shore.

‘On the other side is a small inlet fed by a hot spring. It is a most invigorating experience. Soak in the hot water a bit, then jump into the lake. It will set you right and you can be back in time to join us for the morning meal.’

James smiled. ‘Thank you, it sounds just the thing. I’m so used to having much work before breaking my fast. A pleasant way to fill an hour or so will be welcomed.’

Pug turned back toward the town and after a few steps said, ‘Oh, be careful of swimming in the shore grasses. It’s easy to get turned about and lose your way. The wind makes them bend toward the island, so should you get lost, simply swim in that direction until you feel land underfoot. Then walk out.’

‘Thank you. I’ll be cautious. Good morning.’

‘Good morning, James. I’ll see you at breakfast.’

As Pug returned to the Academy, James headed toward the stand of trees the magician had indicated.

Passing between large boles, pushing aside hanging greenery like a curtain, he discovered a narrow barren path that led down the side of a small dell, toward the lakeshore. Near the water’s edge, he could see steam rising in the morning coolness. James inspected a small pool that was obviously fed from underground, as the steam all rose from that one location only. A small rivulet of water over-spilled one side and ran to the shore, joining the lake there. It was but no more than twenty yards from pool to lake. He glanced about. The pool and this small stretch of shoreline were screened on three sides by trees affording him ample privacy. James removed his tunic and trousers and stuck a foot in the pool. It was almost hotter than he cared for in his own bath! He sank in and let the warmth infuse him, relaxing tense muscles.

Tense muscles? He wondered. He had just awoke. Why should he feel tension. His own voice answered, because of the risk in sending two boys to play at a game of Keshian court politics older than the house of conDoin. He sighed. Pug was a strange man but a wise and powerful one; he was an adopted kinsman to the King and a Duke. Perhaps James should ask Pug’s opinion. Then he thought against it. As much as Pug was reputed to have been a saviour to the Kingdom in years past, there was something odd about Stardock and the manner in which it was governed. James decided he’d find out as much as possible about what went on here before speaking in confidence to the magician. He wondered if he might contrive a way to insinuate an agent here, but concluded it highly improbable given Pug’s resources.

Gods, how I hate waking up tired, he thought. Then he lay back as comfortably as possible to meditate upon his troubles. The soothing heat seemed to creep into his bones, and minutes later his mind floated. He ran down a street, and a hand grabbed him by the arm. He closed his eyes in remembrance. His first memory. He could have been no more than three. It was his mother, pulling him inside her whore’s crib, out of the sight of slavers who were prowling the night. He remembered being held tightly while she clamped her hand over his mouth. Later she would be gone. When he was older, he knew she was dead, but all he could remember of that night was the man with the loud voice shouting at her and hitting her and the red everywhere. Jimmy put the ugly memory aside as he fell into the warmth of the water. Soon he dozed.

He awoke without moving. From the angle of the sun, he couldn’t have dozed for more than minutes, perhaps a half-hour at best. The morning was quiet, but something had disturbed him. He had somewhat outgrown his childhood habit of coming to his feet with a dagger in his hand, it had proved quite disturbing to the servants in the palace, but he still kept a dagger close by. Opening his eyes he moved them first, and saw nothing in his field of vision. He turned his head and again could see nothing above the rim of the pond. He slowly elbowed himself up, feeling foolish as full wakefulness returned, who would be a threat here upon the island of Stardock?

James peeked up above the rim of the pool and found nothing. Suddenly there was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach and he couldn’t find a name for it. It was as if he had entered a room a moment after someone had left through another door; without knowing why, he knew someone had just passed beyond his view.

Instincts born of city dangers set off a primitive alarm in his head, an alarm that had saved him from harm too many times before to be ignored. Yet this alarm didn’t have the echoing ring of threat to it, rather it was excitement. Years before, James had learned the discipline of the night, remaining motionless, keeping one’s mind distant from the concerns of the moment so sudden movement wouldn’t trigger a response. He relaxed his breathing and kept still. He glanced over the rim again, and the echo of another’s passing was gone. The small inlet looked as it had before.

He lay back again and sought to recapture the warm calm that had finally overtaken him, but he couldn’t relax his mind. An excitement began to build in James, as if something glorious was approaching, and there was a sadness, too, as if something miraculous had just passed within touching distance and left him behind. Odd feelings of giddy delight and childish tears clashed inside him. He took a long breath to calm himself. James had discovered he was a man of deep passions since coming to Arutha’s service, but they were rarely shown to others, another legacy of his dangerous youth spent with those for whom displays of emotions other than anger were considered admissions of weakness. But what was triggering these sudden feelings?

Lacking a satisfying answer, he heaved himself out of the pool and raced headlong for the lake, yelling a boy’s shout of frustration released. He dove under and came up spitting water. A sound of relief escaped him as the cold lake seemed to shock him to full wakefulness.

He was an indifferent swimmer but enjoyed the occasion from time to time. Like most children of Krondor’s Poor Quarter, when the hot winds of summer blew he had sought relief at the harbour side, diving from the piers into the salt water and refuse. The sensation of clean water upon his body was something he had remained ignorant of until well into his thirteenth year.

James found himself swimming lazily toward the far side of the inlet. The trees and reeds cut into the water, providing a series of narrow passages to whatever lay upon the other side of the inlet. He picked his way through, half-swimming, half-paddling, until he came to a thick stand of reeds and grasses. He saw the grasses and reeds were wide-spaced, allowing ample vision of the shoreline. He turned upon his back and kicked lazily. Above him, the morning sky turned brilliant, as the sun was now full upon the day. The clouds were white and beautiful as they sped their course across the heavens. Then he was in the grasses, seeing stalks rise high above his head as he felt their ticklish caress while he swam. After a few minutes of swimming this way, he righted himself and glanced about.

Things appeared different and the way back not apparent. Calm by nature, he found the notion of swimming in circles within the reeds an unappealing one but not a fearful one. He remembered Pug’s words and saw the grasses all bending to his left. He would simply swim to where he felt ground underfoot and walk out.

Within a minute, he felt the shore under his toes. He walked through thick reeds and tall grasses, toward a line of trees at the water’s edge. The hanging branches and thick greenery plunged him into shadows while he was still up to his chest in the water. He could only see a few feet in any direction, and the morning light made everything a pattern of murk and blinding blue-white sky above. James followed the rising bottom until he was in water below his waist. He felt foolish to be striding around naked, but as there was no one about, he would only need a short scamper back to the pool where he had left his clothing.

James took a step and suddenly found himself falling into deep water. A current had eroded a small channel to a depth more than his six feet and he came up sputtering and blind. He paddled to the far side and again felt land under him.

A birdcall above him made him wonder if the creature was laughing at his clumsy progress. Sighing, he continued toward the shore, which was but a few yards away, judging by the glimpses of land he got between the trees. With the water at his knees, he was confronted with an impassable barrier of trees and reeds, a rocky overhang rising up to shoulder height. He moved to his right, toward what seemed a closer exit from the foliage that conspired to trap him, and again felt a drop beneath his feet. He settled down to chest-high water and pushed through a very thick curtain of reeds. His progress was slow and he could only move a few feet at a time. His overwhelming feeling was one of unalloyed stupidity for finding himself so distant from where he wanted to be. Pleasant swim before breakfast, indeed.

As his knees brushed a ridge of lake bottom, signalling an end to the channel he was wading through, he parted the reeds before him. Abruptly, James found himself confronted by a sight totally unexpected. Fair skin, white as a newborn’s, was revealed merely a yard before him. And by circumstance of his depressed perspective, he was staring directly at the naked backside of a young woman. Her nearly white-blond hair hung wet from her head as she squeezed water from it, a pose which conspired to display her hips and buttocks in a slightly exaggerated and flattering pose.

James’s breath caught in his chest. The same mixed feeling of alarm and excitement struck him like a hammer blow. He felt as embarrassed at his intrusion into her privacy as he would have felt had she found him at his own pool. Conflicting signals to hold motionless, move back, say something, not be discovered, all clashed together and paralyzed him.

Again his boyhood training overrode conscious thought and he froze in place. Then another thought intruded, and he felt his stomach tighten as a hot rush of excitement gathered in his stomach and groin. Almost aloud he said. It’s about the most beautiful bottom I’ve ever seen.

Instantly the young woman turned about, her hands flying up to her mouth, as if startled by a noise. In that instant, James discovered that the rest of her was equal to what he had already seen. Her figure was slender, like a dancer’s, and her arms and neck were long and elegant, her stomach flat, her breasts not large, but full and lovely. As her hand dropped away from her face, he saw a high forehead, fine cheekbones, and pale, slightly pink lips. Her eyes, wide in astonishment, were the blue of midwinter’s ice. All these details were etched in his mind in an instant. A thousand instants of recognition flooded through James, and in each he knew the young woman before him was at once the most wonderful and terrifying sight he had ever beheld. Then those beautiful pale blue eyes narrowed and suddenly pain exploded in James’s head.

He fell back as if struck by a weapon, and his voice cried out hollow in his own ears as he went beneath the water’s surface. Sharp knives of hot agony filled his mind as water filled his mouth. James sank into the murk of the water as he lost consciousness.

In a place which was not a place James swam, drowning in memories: his playing upon the street cobbles and never a moment passing without the fear. Strangers were a danger, yet every day brought strangers into his mother’s house. Men who were loud and frightening passed the boy each day, some ignoring him, others attempting to amuse him for a brief moment with a pat upon the head or an odd word.

Then the night when she died and no one came: the man with the crooked smile had heard him cry and fled. Jimmy had found his way out of the house, his child’s feet padding through the sticky blood on the floor.

Then the fights with the other boy for the bone and the bread crust left out behind the inns and taverns, eating the raw wheat and corn that spilled from under the grain wagons at the dockside. And the drops of bitter wine in the almost empty bottle. The occasional coin from a generous passerby to buy a hot pie. Hunger was always there.

A voice in the dark, no face to remember, asked him if he was clever. He had been clever. Very clever. His beginning with the Mockers.

Danger around, at all times. No friends, no allies, only the rules of the guild to protect Jimmy the Hand. But he was gifted; the Upright Man forgave small trespasses from one who brought in so much wealth at such an early age.

Then the man with the crooked smile reappeared. Jimmy had been twelve. It had been nothing of proud honour and hot revenge. A boy thief had crept in and dosed the drunk’s wine with a poison purchased from a man dealing in such things. The man with the crooked smile died without knowing his murderer’s reasons, his face blackening as his tongue protruded through swollen lips and his eyes bulging, while the son of a murdered whore watched through a crack in the ceiling of the flop house where he lay. Jimmy had felt no triumph, but somehow he hoped his mother rested better. He never knew his mother’s name. He felt as if he wanted to cry but didn’t know how. He had cried twice … no, three times in honesty. When Anita lay stricken and when he thought Arutha dead. That had been grief, and it was not a sign of weakness or shame. But he had cried in the darkness when trapped in the cave with the rock serpent, before Duke Martin had saved him. He could never admit to his fear.

Other images: his incredible, almost inhuman skills in the calling. His discovery that his fate was linked to great things when he helped to hide the Prince and Princess of Krondor from their captors during the reign of Mad King Rodric. His freeing the captives in Del Garza’s prison and feeling the city and the Upright Man’s wrath afterward, then his adventure in Land’s End. His death duel with a Nighthawk upon the rooftops of the city, saving Arutha’s life, though he had not known it at the time. His travels twice to the Northlands and the great battles of Armengar and Sethanon, and the peace that followed after the battle to stem the return of the Dragon Host.

Now he was James.

His service to Arutha and his reward by being elevated to a place in his court, his title, and, later, another title, and his being named Chancellor of Krondor, first in rank after Duke Gardan in the Prince’s court, all became a haze of pleasant thoughts, the only pleasant thoughts in his life. Faces passed, some named, others nameless. Thieves, assassins, nobles, peasants. Women. He remembered many, for early on he had developed a taste for the attentions of women and, as a rising young nobleman, had his choice of many companions. He never treated any poorly, and genuinely cared for those he bedded, but there was always something lacking. Something important. The moments were pleasant, but pleasure was fleeting and he felt empty afterward. Then a nude figure wading in the lake as she squeezed water from her hair. The most stunning vision he had beheld.

Then a face with pale blue eyes, and lips like pink roses. A concerned face, which peered into James’s, saw past the mask and deep into his very being. Something magical and beautiful burst within James, and again he wanted to cry. A sadness filled him with awful joy and he cringed before those clear eyes. They looked inside and saw things, and he had no secrets. He had no secrets! I am lost! he cried out and a child whimpered at the death of his mother, and a boy cried as a young woman lay dying from an assassin’s bolt, and a youth cried as the only man he had come to trust lay dead before him in his chambers, and a man cried for all the old pain and torment, the fear and loneliness that had lived within his breast since the day of his birth.

James awoke upon the shore, a cry of pain and fear upon his lips. He sat bolt upright, his arm over his head, a child avoiding a blow from above. He was still damp, and naked. A voice said, ‘The pain will pass.’

James turned, and as he did so the terrible aching inside slipped away. He turned to find the young woman sitting upon the shore a few feet away from him. She sat with her legs pulled up before her, arms around her knees, still without her clothing.

James had never so much wished to flee in his life. No experience filled him with such nameless dread as seeing this beautiful young woman sitting near. Tears rose unbidden to his eyes. ‘Who are you?’ he whispered. Yet as he wished to flee, so much more so did he long to be close to this woman.

Slowly she rose, unselfconscious in her nudity, and came to stand before him. She knelt until her face was before his. A voice sounded inside his mind: I am Gamina, James.

Fear again visited James, and he found himself unable to move. He said, ‘You spoke inside my head.’

‘Yes,’ she answered aloud. ‘You must understand that I can see your thoughts, hear them,’ she seemed to grope for a concept, ‘those words are not right. But I know what you think unless you try to keep your thoughts from me.’

He attempted to gather his wits about him as he fought down the aching pain inside. ‘What happened over there?’ He indicated the reed-filled pool.

‘Your thoughts startled me, and I reacted without reason. I can defend myself, as you discovered.’

James raised a hand to his head, a memory of pain there. ‘Yes,’ was all he could say.

She reached out and touched his cheek softly. ‘I am sorry. It was not something I would have done knowingly. I can cause much harm to the mind. It is one of the ways my talents could be abused.’

James found the touch of her hand both reassuring and disturbing. A fearful thrill ran from his chest to his groin. Softly he asked, ‘Who are you?’

She smiled and pain and fear fled from James. ‘I am Gamina. I am Pug and Katala’s daughter.’ Then she leaned forward and softly kissed his lips. ‘I am who you have been seeking, and you are who I have sought.’

James felt hot desire rise up within, but a giddy fearfulness came with it. No stranger to a woman’s embrace, he suddenly felt like a child with his first stolen moment of love. Words he had never thought to hear himself utter came unbidden. ‘I am frightened,’ he whispered.

‘Don’t be,’ she whispered back.

Holding him close, she spoke to his mind. When I stunned you, you fell back into the water. Had I not pulled you out, you would have drowned. As I revived you, your mind was open to me, and mine to you. Had you the ability, you would know me as well as I know you, my Jimmy.

James’s own voice sounded small and wounded in his ears as he spoke. ‘How can it …?’

‘It is,’ she answered. Then she sat back, rubbing salt tears from his face. ‘Come, let me show you.’ Like a baby, he let himself be gathered to her breast, and as her hands caressed his head and shoulders, her voice spoke into his mind. You will never be alone again.

Borric and Erland sat beside each other, enjoying the array of foods for the morning meal. Besides the usual Kingdom fare, a large number of Keshian delicacies also were provided. Pug’s family as well as Kulgan and Meecham dined with the guests. Two places were empty, next to Katala and Locklear.

Borric chewed a mouthful of fine cheese and wine, while Erland said, ‘Cousin Pug, how many people live here now?’

Pug picked lightly at his plate, not eating much. He smiled at his wife and said, ‘Katala attends the daily business of governing this community.’

Katala said, ‘We number nearly a thousand families, both here and on the shore. Here, upon the island—’ Her words fell away. All at the table turned to see the cause of Katala’s truncated speech.

The door at the end of the hall had opened and James entered, escorting a young woman dressed in a simple lavender dress cinched about the waist with a rainbow-coloured belt.

Borric, Erland, and Locklear rose, as the girl hurried to Pug and kissed him upon the cheek. Then she looked into Katala’s eyes for a long moment, as if speaking, though no words were exchanged. The older woman’s eyes began to brim with tears as a smile spread across her face.

Pug turned to look at James, expectantly.

Locklear said, ‘James?’

James cleared his throat, and in a self-conscious tone of voice, like a schoolboy reciting before his master, said, ‘Lord Pug, I, I have the honour of asking permission … to ask for the hand of your daughter in marriage.’

Borric and Erland’s eyes widened in disbelief, then both looked at Locklear. James’s life-long companion since coming to the palace sat down heavily with a stunned expression equal to the twins’ own. Shaking his head, all he could say was, ‘Sink me!’