Читать книгу Krondor: The Betrayal - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 9

THE SOLDIER WAVED THEM IN.

‘You may enter,’ he informed Locklear.

Locklear led his companions into the guardroom of the castle.

They had approached the castle on foot, after an early-morning climb up a long, winding road from the city. He was doubly glad they had chosen to spend the night in the city. His ribs still hurt, but after a night’s sleep in a relatively warm bed and two meals he was feeling twice as fit as he had the day before.

The captain of the castle guard looked up as they entered and said, ‘Squire Locklear, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, Captain Belford,’ said Locklear, accepting the captain’s hand. ‘We met when I passed through on my way north a few months back.’

‘I remember,’ said the captain with a half-hidden grin. Locklear knew the captain must have heard the rumour of the reason for his banishment to the north. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I’d like to see the Earl, if he has the time.’

‘I’m sure he’d love to see you again, sir, but the Earl’s not here,’ said the seasoned old fighter. ‘He’s off on some errand with a troop of men – all Tsurani-bred – leaving me here to take care of things.’

‘The Countess?’ asked Locklear, inquiring after Kasumi’s wife.

‘Down in the city, actually. Shopping and visiting with her family.’ Earl Kasumi had married the daughter of one of LaMut’s more prosperous merchants. ‘If you need something official, you can wait until one of them gets back or ask me, squire. As long as you don’t need an armed escort somewhere.’

Locklear grimaced. ‘I had been thinking about asking for some men to accompany us down to Ylith.’

‘Wish I could oblige, squire, and if you’ve the Prince’s warrant with you, I’d scrape together a dozen swords for you, but as it is, the Earl’s off training recruits, I’ve got my usual patrols along the frontier, and the rest of the lads are out looking for a bunch of Tsurani renegades.’

Owyn said, ‘Renegades?’ Locklear had mentioned nothing of the Tsurani grey warriors to his companions.

‘I heard some rumours,’ was all Locklear said.

The captain motioned for the three of them to sit. Owyn was left standing when Gorath and Locklear took the only two free chairs in the office. ‘I wish it was only rumours,’ said Belford. ‘You know that Tsurani magician, Makala?’

‘By reputation only,’ said Locklear. ‘He was due to arrive in Krondor a few weeks after I departed some months ago. The other Tsurani Great Ones spoke of him, but as they weren’t the most sociable bunch, I only gathered a few things about him. He’s very influential in their Assembly of Magicians, is keen to foster trade and what I believe the Prince is calling “cultural exchanges” between the Empire of Tsuranuanni and the Kingdom, and he was personally coming for a visit.’

‘Well, he did that,’ said the captain. ‘He arrived here a few days ago and called on the Earl. Every Tsurani of any rank does that, as the Earl’s father is very important on the Tsurani home world. So it’s a duty thing.’ The old captain rubbed his beard-stubbled chin with a gloved hand. ‘The Tsurani are very deep into “duty”, I have learned in my time with the Earl. Anyway, they were here for a couple of days, Makala, some other Black Robes, and honour guards and bearers and the bunch, and it seems some of the bearers weren’t really bearers, but were some kind of dishonoured warriors from the Empire.’

‘Grey warriors,’ said Locklear. ‘I heard.’ That would explain how the grey warriors got through the rift, thought Locklear, disguised as bearers.

‘That’s who my lads are looking for. Rumour is they fled east. If they get over the mountains and into the Dimwood, we’ll never find them.’

‘Why the fuss?’ asked Owyn. ‘Are they slaves or indentured?’

‘Squire?’ said the captain pointedly.

‘He’s the son of the Baron of Timons,’ explained Locklear.

‘Well, young sir,’ said the captain, ‘these men are something like outlaws on their own world, which by itself isn’t enough to have me chasing after them, but here they stole something of value to this Makala – a ruby of some rarity, I gather – and he’s making enough of a fuss about it that you’d think the gods themselves lent it to him and he’s got to take it back in a week. So the Earl, some because he’s polite, and some because he’s Tsurani and used to jumping whenever one of those Black Robes barks, he’s got us combing the hills looking for those bastards.’

Locklear smiled at Owyn, as if asking if that was explanation enough. The captain looked at Gorath, as if expecting him to say something. Gorath remained silent. Locklear didn’t know if the captain recognized the moredhel for what he was or thought him an elf, and didn’t see the need to explain things to him. The captain said, ‘What would you need an escort for, if I may make so bold as to ask?’

‘We’ve had some problems,’ said Locklear. ‘Someone’s hired Quegan swords to keep us from reaching Krondor.’

The captain stroked his chin again and remained silent a long moment as he thought. ‘Here’s one thing I can do,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to run a patrol out to the border with the Free Cities. I can have you travel with it until it turns westward, almost half-way between LaMut and Zu-n. That’ll get you part of the way in safety.’

Locklear was silent a moment, then said, ‘I have a better idea.’

‘What?’ asked Captain Belford.

‘If you can pick three men to play our parts, and ride conspicuously out the south city gate, we’ll head east and slip over the mountains and head south to Krondor along the east mountain highway, where we won’t be expected.’

‘A ruse?’ asked the captain.

‘One I learned from the Prince,’ said Locklear. ‘He used it to good effect in the Riftwar. If you can lead away those looking for us, long enough for us to reach the far side of the mountains, we should be safe.’

‘I can arrange that.’ He glanced at Owyn and Gorath. ‘I’ve got some men who can pass for you, if we keep the hood up on the one playing your elf friend, here.’ He stood up. ‘Let me arrange to have the evening patrol stop by your lodgings …?’ He looked at them questioningly.

‘The Inn of the Blue Wheel.’

Belford smiled. ‘Sumani’s place. Don’t let his smiling countenance fool you; he’s a tough boot. If you get the time, have him show you some of his fighting tricks. He’ll make time for a few coins. His decision not to stay in service was our loss.’

The captain left and returned a short time later. ‘It’s taken care of. Head back to the city and let anyone who might be following you see you return. Lie low in the inn until tonight and I’ll have three horses waiting for you in the inn’s stable.’ He handed Locklear a piece of parchment. ‘Here’s a pass. If one of our lads on the road to the east stops you, this will set him right.’

Locklear rose. ‘Thank you, captain. You’ve been a great help. If there’s anything I can do for you when you’re next in Krondor, please tell me.’

The old captain smiled. Rubbing his chin once more he said, ‘Well, you could introduce me to that merchant’s young wife I hear got you run up this way in the first place.’

Owyn grinned and Gorath remained impassive as Locklear blushed and grimaced. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ They rose and departed the office.

Owyn said, ‘We walk?’

‘We walk,’ said Locklear as they headed for the main gate of the castle. ‘But at least it’s downhill.’

Gorath said, ‘That is actually more tiring.’

Locklear swore. ‘It was a joke.’

Gorath said, ‘Really?’ His tone was so dry it took a moment for Owyn to realize he was twitting Locklear. Owyn kept his own mirth in check and they started back toward the city.

Locklear slipped through the door into their room. Gorath looked up without alarm, but Owyn jumped off the bed. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Nosing around. Sitting up here might be smarter, but I’ve got this itch to scratch.’

Gorath looked on, but still said nothing.

Owyn said, ‘Itch?’

Locklear smiled. ‘Too many years of keeping the wrong sort of company, I suppose, but the reports of those grey warriors and the theft of some sort of rich item dear to a Tsurani Great One had me thinking. If I stole something on a different world, how would I dispose of it?’

‘Depends on what it is, I guess,’ offered Owyn.

Gorath gave a slight nod, but still said nothing.

‘There would have to be a local contact, someone who knew where one disposes of something of value.’

‘And you expect to discover this person in the midst of the throng of this city and use him to trace this band of thieves?’ asked Gorath.

‘No,’ said Locklear waving away the comment. ‘The captain said the stolen item is a gem, which being from Kelewan isn’t a shock. There isn’t much on that world of value that’s also easy to transport that would fetch a high value here. So my thinking is that the best way to find this missing gem is to learn where it’s most likely to end up.’

‘A fence?’ asked Owyn.

‘No, for if as I suspect the value of the ruby is enough to give a band of desperate men a new start on a strange world, it would have to be the sort of man who has a legitimate enterprise, one likely to mask the movement of this item.’

‘You seem to understand this sort of business better than a noble of your race should,’ observed Gorath.

‘I said I kept the wrong sort of company. After buying a few drinks, I discovered there’s a merchant with less than a stellar reputation who deals in gems, jewellery, and other luxury items. He’s a man named Kiefer Alescook.’

‘Who told you this?’ asked Owyn.

‘Our host, actually,’ said Locklear, motioning it was time for them to depart. They rose and gathered their gear, and moved out down the stairs to the common room. With a wave goodbye to Sumani, they moved through the door. Once outside the inn, Locklear motioned for them to walk around the corner to the stabling yard next to the inn. They moved inside the door and found three men waiting for them, each holding two horses.

One said, ‘Switch cloaks, quickly!’

Each was of a like height with Locklear and his companions and the exchange was made. If the man playing the part of Gorath had any notion of whom he was impersonating, he kept such thoughts to himself, merely handing Gorath a large blue cloak, taking the dark grey one worn by the moredhel. The others switched cloaks and Locklear took the reins of one of the horses.

By the time the three impostors were mounted, the sound of hooves on the stones announced the arrival of the patrol that would head down toward Zu-n this evening. From outside the gate of the stabling yard, a sergeant shouted, ‘We’re here to escort you south, Squire Locklear!’

Locklear took his cue and shouted back, ‘We’re ready!’ He nodded to the three men impersonating them who rode off and joined the van of the column. Locklear waited and after a few minutes said, ‘Owyn, you ride out, turn left and head straight out the gate. Ride a mile, then wait. Gorath and I will be behind you by a few minutes.’

Gorath grunted his approval. ‘So should anyone linger, he won’t see three riders.’

Locklear nodded and Owyn said, ‘Hold this, please.’ He handed his quarterstaff to Locklear, climbed into the saddle, then took the long oaken pole back. With a deft movement, he slung it over his shoulder, through his belt, then twisted it, so it hung across his shoulders and back, not encumbering him or the horse too much.

Gorath easily mounted, though he looked slightly ill at ease.

‘Don’t ride much?’ asked Locklear as Owyn departed.

‘Not really. It’s been a while, thirty or so years.’

‘Not a lot of horses in the Northlands?’

Without bitterness, Gorath said, ‘Not a lot of anything in the Northlands.’

Locklear said, ‘I remember.’

Gorath nodded. ‘We bled at Armengar.’

Locklear said, ‘Not enough. It didn’t keep you from coming through Highcastle.’

Gorath pointed with his chin. ‘We should go now.’ He didn’t wait for Locklear, but put heels to the sides of his horse and rode out.

Locklear hesitated a moment, then followed after. He overtook the dark elf as he rode easily through the foot traffic of the city. Men hurried home for evening meals while shops closed on every side. Travellers fresh in from the highway hurried toward the inn, eager to wash away the day’s trail dust with an ale, and women of the night began to appear on street corners.

Locklear and Gorath rode out the gate, ignored by the guards, and set their horses to cantering. A few minutes later they spied Owyn sitting on the side of the road.

When they reached him, he turned and said, ‘Now what?’

Locklear pointed toward a stand of woods a short distance away. ‘A cold camp, unfortunately, but at first light we ride north a few miles. There’s a mine road to the east that leads over the mountains. We’ll take that, then turn south on the other side. With luck we’ll avoid those seeking our friend here and make our way safely to the King’s Highway south of Quester’s View.’

Owyn said, ‘That means we’re going to come out near Loriel, right?’

‘Yes,’ said Locklear, with a smile. ‘Which means we’ll have the chance to visit one Kiefer Alescook along the way.’

‘Why involve ourselves in this matter?’ asked Gorath. ‘We need to hurry to Krondor.’

‘We are, and a few minutes’ conversation with Master Alescook may yield us a benefit. Should we discover the whereabouts of this missing gem, we win credit with Prince Arutha, for I am certain he wishes to be a gracious host to the visiting magicians from Kelewan.’

‘And if we don’t?’ asked Owyn as they rode toward the woods.

‘Then I still have to come up with a compelling reason why I left Tyr-Sog without his leave and returned with only this moredhel and an unlikely story.’

Owyn sighed aloud. ‘Well, you think of one to tell my father when I get back home and I’ll try to come up with something to tell the Prince.’

Gorath chuckled at this.

Owyn and Locklear exchanged glances. Locklear shook his head in the evening gloom. He had never considered the dark elves might have a sense of humour.

The wind was cold in the passes, for as winter was coming, in the elevations above them snow already clung tenaciously to the rocks and ice lurked in depressions in the road, making the footing dangerous.

They rode slowly, Locklear and Owyn both with their cloaks pulled tightly around them. Gorath kept his hood up, but rode without apparent discomfort.

‘How much longer?’ asked Owyn, his teeth chattering.

‘A half-hour less than the last time you asked,’ said Locklear.

‘Squire,’ said Owyn. ‘I’m freezing.’

Locklear said, ‘Really. How unusual.’

Gorath held up his hand. ‘Quiet,’ he said softly, with just enough authority and volume to carry to his companions, but no farther. He pointed up ahead. ‘In the rocks,’ he whispered.

‘What?’ asked Locklear in hushed tones.

Gorath only pointed. He held up four fingers.

‘Maybe they’re bandits,’ whispered Owyn.

‘They’re speaking my tongue,’ said Gorath.

Locklear sighed. ‘They’re covering all the roads, then.’

‘How do we proceed?’ asked Owyn.

Pulling his sword, Gorath said, ‘We kill them.’ He spurred his horse forward, with Locklear hesitating only an instant before following.

Owyn reached up and quickly pulled out his staff, tucking it under his arm like a lance, then urging his horse forward. He heard a shout as he rounded a turn in the trail and entered a widening in the road where one dark elf lay dying in the road as Gorath sped past him.

The other three were not so quickly taken, but rather hurried up into higher rocks where the horses couldn’t follow. Locklear didn’t hesitate and in a move that startled Owyn, the squire jumped up on his saddle and leaped off the running horse’s back, knocking a moredhel from the rock he was climbing.

On his right Owyn saw another one turn, rapidly stringing his bow, then reaching in a hip quiver for an arrow. Owyn urged his horse forward, and swept his staff, striking the bowman below the knee. The bowman went down, his feet shooting out from under him, and struck the rocks with the back of his head.

Owyn’s mount shied from the sudden motion near his head and suddenly Owyn found himself falling backwards. ‘Ahhhh!’ he cried, and then he struck something softer than the rocks. A stunned ‘oof’ accompanied the impact, and a groan told him he had landed atop the already injured dark elf.

As if scorched by the touch of a flame, Owyn turned over and sat up, scrambling backwards. Suddenly he was struck from behind by his horse as the animal turned and sped down the trail. ‘Hey!’ Owyn shouted, as if he could order the animal to stop.

He then realized there was a struggle going on, and the twice-struck moredhel was attempting to rise. Owyn looked around for a weapon and saw the fallen archer’s bow. Owyn grabbed it, and using it like a club, struck the moredhel in the head with as much strength as he could muster. The bow shattered and the warrior’s head snapped back. Owyn was certain he wouldn’t rise again.

The young magician turned to see Locklear standing away from a now dead dark elf, while Gorath likewise stood over a fallen foe. The moredhel turned and looked in all directions, as if seeking another foe. After a moment, he put up his sword and said, ‘They are alone.’

‘How can you tell?’ asked Locklear.

‘These are my people,’ said Gorath without apparent bitterness. ‘It is unusual for even this many to travel together this far south of our lands.’ He motioned toward a small fire. ‘They didn’t expect to encounter us.’

‘Then what were they doing here?’ asked Locklear.

‘Waiting for someone?’

‘Who?’ asked Owyn.

Gorath looked around in the late-afternoon light as if seeing something in the distant peaks, or through the rocks on either side of the trail. ‘I don’t know. But they were waiting here.’

Locklear said, ‘Where is your horse, Owyn?’

Owyn looked over his shoulder and said, ‘Back down there somewhere. I fell off.’

Gorath smiled. ‘I saw you land on that one over there.’ He indicated the body.

Locklear said, ‘Hurry back down the trail and see if you can find him. If he’s heading back toward LaMut, we’ll have to ride in rotation. I don’t want to be slowed any more than necessary.’

As Owyn ran off, Gorath said, ‘Why don’t you leave him behind?’

Locklear studied the moredhel’s expression as if trying to read him, then at last he said, ‘It’s not our way.’

Gorath laughed mockingly. ‘My experience with your kind tells me otherwise.’

Locklear said, ‘Then it’s not my way.’

Gorath shrugged. ‘I can accept that.’ He set to examining the corpse at Locklear’s feet and after a moment said, ‘This is interesting.’ He held out an object for Locklear’s examination.

‘What is this?’ asked Locklear, looking at a multi-faceted stone of an odd blue hue.

‘A snow sapphire.’

‘Sapphire!’ said Locklear. ‘It’s as big as an egg!’

‘It’s not a particularly valuable stone,’ said Gorath. ‘They are common north of the Teeth of the World.’

‘So it’s, what? A keepsake?’

‘Perhaps, but when a war party leaves our homeland, we travel light. Weapons, rations, extra bowstrings, and little else. We easily live by forage.’

‘Maybe this isn’t a war party,’ suggested Locklear. ‘Maybe they live around here?’

Gorath shook his head. ‘The last of my people south of the Teeth of the World lived in the Grey Towers and they fled to the Northlands with the coming of the Tsurani. None of my race has lived this near the Bitter Sea since before the Kingdom came to these mountains. No, while not of my clan, these are from the Northlands.’ He put the gem in his belt pouch and continued to examine the bodies.

Time passed and finally Owyn put in an appearance, leading his horse. ‘Damn all horses,’ he swore. ‘He made me chase him until he got bored.’

Locklear smiled. ‘Next time, don’t fall off.’

‘I didn’t plan on it this time,’ said Owyn.

Gorath said, ‘We need to hide these.’ He pointed to the four dead moredhel. He picked up one and carried it a short way down the trail then unceremoniously threw the corpse over the side of a ravine.

Owyn looked at Locklear, and the young magician tied his horse’s reins to a nearby bush. He picked up the feet of the nearest corpse while Locklear lifted the creature under the shoulders.

Soon all four bodies were consigned to the ravine hundreds of feet below. Locklear mounted as did Gorath and Owyn. Leaving for the time being the mystery of why these moredhel were waiting at this lonely spot on a rarely used trail, they rode on.

Loriel appeared before them, a small city – really a large town – nestled into the large valley which ran eastward. Another valley intersected from the south.

Gorath said, ‘We need food.’

‘A fact of which my stomach is well aware,’ answered Locklear.

Owyn said, ‘Not that I’m in a hurry to face my father, but this is turning into a roundabout journey, squire.’

Locklear pointed to the southern valley. ‘There’s a road through there that’s a very straight course to Hawk’s Hollow. From there we have our choice of routes, south along a narrow ridge trail, or southwest back to the King’s Highway.’

Gorath said, ‘And then to Krondor?’

‘And then to Krondor,’ agreed Locklear. ‘Something in all this is making what my friend Jimmy calls his “bump of trouble” itch like I’ve been attacked there by fleas.

‘Gorath, this stolen ruby, the Tsurani magicians, all of it is somehow … more than coincidence.’

‘How?’ asked Owyn.

‘If I knew,’ said Locklear, ‘we wouldn’t be stopping off to visit Mr Alescook. He may know something or know someone who knows what it’s about, but the more I think on this mystery, the more it bothers me that I don’t know what’s behind all this.

‘But we’re going to find out or die trying.’

Owyn didn’t look happy at the second choice, but said nothing. Gorath just looked out over the town as they rode down towards a small guard post that sat beside the trail.

A town constable of advancing years and considerable girth held up his hand and said, ‘Halt!’

The three reined in and Locklear inquired, ‘What is it?’

‘We’ve had a rash of renegades around here, lately, m’lad, so state your business.’

‘We’re travelling south and stopping for provisions,’ said Locklear.

‘And who might you be, to be riding down out of the mountains?’

Locklear produced the paper given him by Captain Belford and said, ‘This should explain as much as you need to know, constable.’

The man took the document and squinted at it. Locklear realized he couldn’t read, but he made a show of studying it. Finally, convinced by the large embossment at the bottom, the constable handed back the paper and said, ‘You may pass, sir. Just be wary if you’re out after dark.’

‘Why?’ asked Locklear.

‘As I said, sir, lots of ruffians and bandits passing by lately, and not too few of those murderous Brothers of the Dark Path. Look a bit like your elf friend there, but with long black nails and red eyes which shine in the night.’

Locklear could barely hold back his amusement as he said, ‘We’ll be wary, constable.’

They rode past and Gorath said, ‘That one has never seen one of my people in his life.’

‘So I gathered,’ observed Locklear, ‘though I must pay more attention to your eyes at night. I may have missed the red glow.’

Owyn chuckled and they found themselves an inn. It was dirty, crowded and dark, which suited Locklear fine as he was low on funds. He had thought about asking Captain Belford for a loan, but decided the captain’s only response would have been, ‘wait for Earl Kasumi,’ and while Locklear didn’t mind taking a circuitous route to get to Krondor to avoid ambushes, he was anxious to put the mystery of what was occurring in the Northlands before Arutha.

There were no rooms available, a situation that surprised Locklear, but the innkeeper gave them leave to sleep in the commons. Owyn grumbled at the need, but Gorath kept his thoughts to himself.

So far no one had objected to the moredhel’s presence along the way, either because they didn’t recognize him for what he was, mistaking him for an elf, or because a moredhel with renegade humans in these mountains was not all that unusual a sight. Whatever the cause, Locklear was grateful he didn’t need to deal with curious onlookers.

They ate at a crowded table, and after the meal listened to an indifferent troubadour. There were some games of chance and Locklear itched to try his hand at some cards, either pashawa or pokir. He resisted the impulse, as he could ill afford to lose, and one lesson taught him by his father and older brothers was don’t gamble what you can’t afford to lose.

As the inn settled down and those sleeping in the commons began to claim corners and places under tables, Locklear approached the barkeep, a heavy-set man with a black beard. ‘Sir?’ he asked as Locklear moved between two other men to stand before him.

‘Tell me, friend,’ began Locklear. ‘Is there a merchant in this town who deals in gems?’

The barkeep nodded. ‘Three doors down on the right. Name’s Alescook.’

‘Good,’ said Locklear. ‘I need to purchase a gift for a lady.’

The barkeep grinned. ‘I understand, sir. Now, one word: caution.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Locklear.

‘I’m not saying Kiefer Alescook can’t be trusted, but let’s just say the source of some of his merchandise is a bit dodgy.’

‘Ah,’ said Locklear, nodding as if now he understood. ‘Thanks. I’ll bear that in mind.’

Locklear returned to the table and said, ‘I’ve found our man. He’s nearby and we’ll see him first thing in the morning.’

‘Good,’ said Gorath. ‘I tire of your company.’

Locklear laughed. ‘You’re not exactly an ale and fair song yourself, Gorath.’

Owyn said, ‘Well, whatever. I’m tired and if we’re to sleep on the floor, I don’t want to get too far from the fire.’

Locklear realized that men were now bedding down for the night and replied, ‘Over there.’

They moved to the indicated spot and unrolled their bedding. After a few minutes of listening to the sounds of hushed conversation from those few men still at the tables or the door opening and closing as men left to return to their homes, Locklear fell into a deep sleep.

The merchant looked up as the three men entered the room. He was an old man, looking frail to the point of infirmity. He regarded the three with rheumy eyes. He studied Gorath for a moment, then said, ‘If you’ve come for gold, I sent it north with one of your kind two days ago.’

Gorath said, ‘I did not come for gold.’

Locklear said, ‘We came looking for information.’

The merchant fell silent. After a moment, he said, ‘Information? Find a rumour-monger. I deal in gems and other fine items.’

‘And from what we hear, you’re not too particular as to the source of those items.’

‘Are you suggesting I deal in stolen property?’ demanded the old man, his voice rising.

Locklear held up his hand. ‘I suggest nothing, but I am seeking a particular stone.’

‘What?’

‘A ruby, unusual in size and character. I seek to return it to its rightful owner, no questions asked. If you came by it, no fault will be placed at your feet, if you help us recover it. If you don’t, then I suggest you may receive a visit from a royal magistrate and some very disapproving guardsmen from the garrison at Tyr-Sog.’

The old man’s expression turned calculating. His balding pate shone in the light of a single lantern that hung overhead. With feigned indifference he said, ‘I have nothing to hide. But I may be able to help you.’

‘What do you know?’ asked Locklear.

‘Lately, my business has been brisk, but it’s an unusual sort of trade, and I’ve been in this business for fifty years, lad.

‘Recently, I’ve been handling transactions for parties I have not met, through agents and couriers. Most unusual, but profitable. Gems of high quality, many of them very rare, even remarkable, have passed through my hands.’

‘Tsurani gems?’ asked Locklear.

‘Precisely!’ said the old man. ‘Yes, similar enough to our own rubies, sapphires, emeralds and the like to be recognized as such, but with slight variations only an expert might notice. And also, other gems unlike any found on this world.’

‘Whom do you represent?’ asked Locklear.

‘No one known to me,’ said the old man. ‘At irregular intervals of late, dark elves like your companion have come here, and they drop off gems. Later a man comes from the south and brings me gold. I take a commission and wait for the dark elves to return and take the gold.’

Gorath turned to Locklear. ‘Delekhan. He’s using the gold to arm our people.’

Locklear held his hand up, requesting silence. ‘We’ll talk later.’ To the old man he said, ‘Who buys the gems?’

‘I don’t know, but the man who receives them is known as Isaac. He lives down in Hawk’s Hollow.’

‘Have you seen this Isaac?’ asked Locklear.

‘Many times. He’s a young man, about your height. Light brown hair he wears long to his shoulders.’

‘Does he speak like an Easterner?’

‘Yes, now that you mention it. He sounds court bred at times.’

Locklear said, ‘Thank you. I will mention your aid should any official investigation come of this.’

‘I am always eager to help the authorities. I run a lawful enterprise.’

‘Good.’ Locklear motioned toward Gorath’s purse and said, ‘Sell him the stone.’

Gorath took out the snow sapphire he had taken from the dead moredhel and put it down before Alescook.

The merchant picked it up and examined it. ‘Ah, a nice one. I have a buyer for these down south. I’ll give you a golden sovereign for it.’

‘Five,’ said Locklear.

‘These are not that rare,’ said Alescook, tossing it back to Gorath, who started to put it away. ‘But, on the other hand … two sovereigns.’

‘Four,’ said Locklear.

‘Three, and that’s done with it.’

They took the gold, enough for a meal along the way, left and went outside. To his companions Locklear said, ‘We’re passing through Hawk’s Hollow on our way to Krondor, so our next choice is easy. We find Isaac.’

As he mounted his horse, Gorath said, ‘This Isaac is known to you, then?’

Locklear said, ‘Yes. He’s the second biggest rogue I’ve known in my life. A fine companion for drinking and brawling. If he’s caught up in something dodgy, it wouldn’t surprise me.’

They turned their horses southward and left the large, rolling valley of Loriel, entering the narrow river valley leading southward. Locklear had been able to purchase a little food at the inn, but the lack of funds was starting to worry him. He knew they could hunt, but his sense of something dark approaching was growing by the day. A renegade moredhel chieftain bringing warning of possible invasion, money moving to the north to buy weapons from weapons runners, and somehow the Tsurani were involved. Any way he looked at this, it was a bad situation.

Unable to put aside his foreboding, he kept his thoughts to himself.

Gorath held up his hand and pointed. Softly he said, ‘Something there.’

‘I don’t see anything,’ said Owyn.

‘If you did, I would not need to warn you,’ suggested the dark elf.

‘What do you see?’ asked Locklear.

‘An ambush. See those trees. Some lower branches have been hacked off, but not by a woodsman’s axe or saw.’

‘Owyn,’ Locklear asked, ‘can you still do that blinding trick?’

‘Yes,’ said Owyn, ‘if I can see the man I’m trying to blind.’

‘Well, as we’re sitting here, pointing at them, I expect in a moment whoever’s behind that brush is going to figure out we’ve spotted their ambush—’

Locklear was interrupted by six figures rushing forward from the brush on foot. ‘Moredhel!’ shouted Locklear as he charged.

He felt the sizzling energy speed past him as Owyn sought to blind an advancing dark elf. The spell took effect, for the creature faltered, reaching up to his eyes in alarm.

Locklear leaned over the neck of his horse as an arrow flew past him. ‘Get the bowman,’ he shouted to Owyn.

Gorath shouted a war cry and rode down one attacker while slashing at a second. Locklear engaged a dark elf who seemed indifferent to facing a mounted opponent, and Locklear knew from bitter experience how deadly the moredhel could be. While rarely mounted themselves, they had faced human cavalry for hundreds of years and were adept at pulling riders from horseback. Knowing their tactics, Locklear spurred his mount suddenly, turning it hard to the left. This knocked back the attacker he faced and revealed the one poised to leap and drag him down. Locklear slashed out with his sword, taking the creature in the throat, above his metal breastplate. Locklear kept his horse circling, so he quickly faced his first attacker.

The sizzling sensation told him Owyn was once more blinding an opponent, and Locklear hoped it was the bowman. The moredhel who had fallen back as the horse spun pressed forward with a vicious slash at Locklear’s leg.

He barely got his sword down in time and felt the shock run up through his arm. His stiff ribs hindered his parry and the flat of his own blade slammed into his horse’s side, causing the animal to shy.

Locklear used his left leg and moved the animal back into a straight line, twisting his body to keep his eyes upon his foe. His ribs hurt from the effort, but he stayed alive as the moredhel swung at him again. He knocked that blow aside and delivered a weak counter which slapped his opponent in the face, irritating him more than doing any real damage.

But the blow did slow the moredhel’s advance, and Locklear got his horse turned to face his foe. Locklear remembered something his father had drilled into him and his brothers; a soldier who has a weapon and doesn’t use it is either an idiot or dead.

His horse was a weapon, and Locklear put his legs hard against his horse’s flanks and tugged hard on the reins with his off hand. The horse picked up a canter, and to the moredhel it was as if the horse suddenly leaped at him.

The warrior was a veteran and dodged to one side, but Locklear reined his horse in, turning hard to the left. To the moredhel, it looked as if Locklear was turning away, and the creature pressed forward.

Locklear kept the horse turning in a tight circle, and suddenly the moredhel realized his error as the young squire completed his circle with a slashing downward blow. This was no irritating tap, but a powerful blow which smashed bone as it cut into the side of the moredhel’s skull.

Locklear glanced toward Gorath and saw him beset by two foes, then looked back to Owyn, and saw that he was on foot a hundred yards away and holding a swordsman at bay with his staff. Hoping the bowman was still blinded by Owyn’s magic, Locklear rode to Owyn’s rescue.

He kicked hard at his horse’s flanks and the animal leaped forward so that he was approaching at a gallop when the moredhel heard him coming. The dark elf turned to look at his second opponent, giving Owyn the opening to strike with the butt of his staff. He broke the creature’s jaw and sent him slumping to the ground.

Locklear reined his horse in so suddenly the animal planted his hooves and almost sat. Spinning the horse around, Locklear waved to Owyn, shouting, ‘Keep the bowman off us!’

As if the Goddess of Luck had turned a deaf ear to him, Locklear was lifted out of the saddle by an arrow. He struck the ground hard, barely avoiding broken bones by rolling. The arrow in his left shoulder snapped and the pain caused his vision to swim and took his breath away.

For the briefest instant, Locklear fought to keep conscious, then he felt his eyes focus and he willed away the pain in his shoulder. A strangled cry behind him made him turn. Over him reared a moredhel, sword raised to strike. Suddenly Gorath was behind the moredhel, and he plunged his sword into the moredhel’s back.

Owyn ran past, wheeling his staff above his head. Locklear looked up as his would-be killer fell to his knees, then keeled over. Gorath turned before Locklear could speak and ran after Owyn.

Locklear rose slowly on wobbly legs as he saw Owyn rush forward and strike a moredhel bowman who was vainly rubbing his eyes as if trying to clear them. The bowman was clubbed to his knees, and died a moment later as Gorath delivered the killing blow.

Gorath spun around in a circle once, as if seeking another enemy, but Locklear saw the six were dead. Gorath stood with his sword in hand, frustration on his face, then he shouted in rage. ‘Delekhan!’

Locklear stumbled to the dark elf and said, ‘What?’

‘They knew we were coming!’ said Gorath.

Owyn said, ‘Somehow they got word south?’

Gorath put up his sword. ‘Nago.’

‘What?’ asked Locklear.

‘Not what, who,’ said Gorath. ‘Nago. He’s one of Delekhan’s sorcerers. He and his brother Narab served the murderer. They are powerful chieftains in their own right, but right now they’re doing Delekhan’s bidding. Without their help, Delekhan never would have risen to power and overthrown the chieftains of the other clans. Without their help, these—’ his hand swept in a circle, indicating the dead moredhel ‘—would not be here waiting.’ He knelt next to one of the dead and said, ‘This was my cousin, my kinsman.’ He pointed to another one. ‘That one is from a clan that has been sworn enemy to mine for generations. That they are both serving this monster hints at his power.’

Locklear indicated his shoulder and sank to the ground. Owyn examined it and explained, ‘I can get the arrowhead out, but it’s going to hurt.’

Locklear said, ‘It already hurts. Get on with it.’

While Owyn ministered to Locklear, Gorath said, ‘Nago and Narab both have the power of mind speech. Especially with one another. Those we killed on the road to your town of Loriel, or another who spied us, must have passed word to one of the brothers. He in turn alerted these as to our whereabouts.’

Locklear said, ‘So the chances are good that before they died, one of these also let Nago know we are here?’

‘Almost certainly.’

‘Wonderful,’ said Locklear through gritted teeth as Owyn used his dagger to cut out the arrowhead. His eyes teared and his vision swam again for a moment, but by breathing slowly and deeply he kept conscious.

Owyn dusted the wound with a pack of herbs from his belt pouch then placed a cloth over it. ‘Hold this here; press hard,’ he instructed. He went to the nearest body and robbed it of a strip of cloth, cut away with his dagger, then returned to bind it tightly around Locklear’s shoulder. ‘Between that wound to your ribs and this shoulder, your left arm is close to useless, squire.’

‘Just what I wanted to hear,’ said Locklear as he tried to move his left arm and found Owyn’s observation correct. He could move it scant inches before pain made him stop the attempt. ‘Horses?’

‘They’ve run off,’ said Owyn.

‘Wonderful,’ said Locklear. ‘I was knocked out of the saddle, what’s your excuse?’ he demanded of the other two.

Gorath said, ‘Fighting on the back of the beast was too awkward.’

Owyn said, ‘I can’t cast a spell from the saddle. Sorry.’

Locklear stood. ‘So we walk.’

‘How far is it to Hawk’s Hollow?’ asked Owyn.

‘Too far,’ said Locklear. ‘If they’re waiting for us, much too far.’