Rage of a Demon King. Raymond E. Feist

eyes obey his will, so he shut them.

      Another voice, Roo’s, said, ‘Can you hear me?’

      ‘Yes,’ Erik managed to croak.

      Someone put a damp cloth on his lips and Erik licked them. The moisture seemed to help, so he sucked on the cloth. Then someone held a cup of water to his lips, while someone else held his head so he could drink.

      ‘Just a sip,’ said the woman’s voice.

      Erik sipped, and while his throat hurt worse than he ever remembered, he forced himself to swallow. In a few seconds the returning moisture to his mouth and throat eased the discomfort.

      Erik blinked, as he realized he was in a bed. Hovering over him were Kitty, Duke James, Roo, and Calis. Another figure was barely visible at the periphery of his vision.

      ‘What happened?’ asked Erik, his voice still hoarse.

      ‘You were poisoned,’ said Roo.

      ‘Poisoned?’ he asked.

      Nodding, Duke James said, ‘Henri Dubois. He’s a poisoner from Bas-Tyra. I’ve run afoul of his handiwork before in Rillanon. I didn’t expect to see him this far west.’

      Glancing around, Erik assumed he was in a back room at the inn, a priest of an order he didn’t recognize standing behind the others.

      ‘Why?’ asked Erik. Assuming no one in the room was ignorant of the coming invasion, he still didn’t want to betray anything Lord James wanted kept secret.

      ‘Nothing to do with the coming troubles,’ said Calis. He glanced pointedly at the priest, which Erik took to mean the man was not fully trusted.

      ‘A personal matter,’ suggested Lord James.

      Erik wasn’t sure what he meant, for a moment, then realization struck. ‘Mathilda,’ he whispered. He sank back into the bed. His father’s widow, mother to his murdered half-brother, who had vowed revenge on Erik and Roo, had sent someone to see the matter disposed of.

      ‘They were coming after Roo next,’ said Erik.

      ‘That’s logical,’ said James.

      ‘Who was the other man, the quiet one?’ asked Erik as James helped him to sit upright. Nausea struck him, his head rang, and his eyes watered, but he stayed conscious.

      ‘We don’t know,’ answered Calis. ‘He got out of the inn while we were subduing Dubois.’

      ‘You captured him?’ asked Erik.

      ‘Yes,’ answered James. ‘Last night.’ He indicated Kitty. ‘When she left the inn to fetch some of my agents, then returned to find you on the floor, she surmised at once what was going on. She hurried down to the nearest temple and brought a priest to heal you.’

      ‘Half dragged, you mean,’ said the nameless priest.

      James smiled. ‘My men took Dubois to the palace and we questioned him all night. We’re certain the late Baron of Darkmoor’s widow sent him after you.’ James raised one eyebrow and motioned with his head toward the cleric.

      Erik said nothing. He knew the Lady Gamina, James’s wife, could read minds, which was why they were certain who had sent the assassin. No confession was needed.

      The priest said, ‘I think you should rest. The magic that cleansed your body of the poison didn’t reverse the damage already done you. You will need at least a week of bed rest and a bland diet.’

      ‘Thank you, Father … ?’ began Erik.

      ‘Father Andrew,’ answered the priest. He nodded once to the Duke and left without further comment.

      Erik said, ‘That’s an odd priest. I don’t recognize his regalia.’

      ‘I would find it strange if you did, Erik,’ answered the Duke as he moved toward the door. ‘Andrew is a priest of the order of Ban-ath. Their shrine is the closest to this inn.’

      The god of thieves was not one commonly worshiped by most citizens. There were two holidays where small votive offerings were made to protect the home, as an appeasement, but mostly those who frequented the temple were on the dodgy path, as it was called. It was rumored the Mockers’ Guild sent a tithe to the temple each year.

      James said, ‘I’m going to leave you now. You stay here a couple of days, then you’ve got to get that happy little band of cutthroats we’ve recruited for you up into the mountains and teach them what they need to know.’

      Erik glanced around. ‘Where is here?’

      ‘My room,’ said Kitty.

      ‘No,’ said Erik trying to rise. He almost fainted from the effort. ‘Give me a little while to catch my breath and I’ll get back to the palace.’

      Calis turned to leave. ‘Stay here.’

      ‘I’ve slept with worse company,’ said Kitty. ‘I won’t mind a pallet on the floor.’

      Erik tried to protest but fatigue was making it hard to keep his eyes open.

      He heard Calis say something to Kitty, but couldn’t remember what it was. During the night, chills racked his body for a few minutes, until a warm body slipped into bed with him and he felt reassuring arms encircle his waist. But when he awoke in the morning he was alone.

      Erik rode in silence. His strength was slowly returning after a few days in bed, and a week in the saddle. Since leaving Krondor he had left it to Alfred to bully the men, doing little more than give instructions to Alfred and another corporal named Nolan. He had inspected fortifications only once or twice. Jadow and the other sergeants had done their work in Krondor. The men were adept at using the ancient Keshian Legion techniques for making camp each night. Within a hour of the order being given, a tiny fortress was in place with breastworks, defensive stakes, and removable planks used to get in and out.

      Erik was getting to know these men, though he still couldn’t remember every name. He knew many of them would die in the coming war. But Calis and William were doing a nearly perfect job of picking the right men for these special companies. The men before him were tough and self-reliant and, Erik suspected, would be able to live by their own wits for months up in these mountains if the situation required once they had learned the particulars of mountain living.

      Erik considered all the things he knew from living in Ravensburg: the tricks the wind played with sound, the threat of a sudden storm being felt before it was seen, and the dangers of being exposed to such a storm. He had seen more than one traveler dead from spending the night in the cold, only miles from the inn where Erik had grown up.

      The wind from the north was cold, for winter was coming quickly. Erik realized that was why he was thinking of the trader they had found when he was ten; the man had tried to shelter under a tree, with his cloak wrapped around him, but in the night the wind had sucked the warmth from his body and killed him as if he had been encased in ice.

      They were making their way along a small mountain trail, used for the most part by hunters and a few shepherds, one which ran roughly the same course as the King’s Highway from Krondor to Ylith, but which veered to the northeast about fifty miles from the Prince’s city. Several little hamlets dotted the way up to another fork, where the road turned west again, eventually leading to Hawk’s Hollow and Questor’s View, while a smaller trail led to the northeast, toward the Teeth of the World and the Dimwood. In the foothills of those great mountains and in the various meadows, valleys, and stretches of the forests existed some of the most dangerous and unknown territory within the boundaries of the Kingdom.

      Fate had conspired to keep Kingdom citizens out of those areas, for there were no natural trade routes, little desirable farmland, and few mineral riches to lure men to these areas. Erik had decided, without asking anyone, to take his trainees farther on this march than ever before. He had an instinct that the more the Kingdom knew of the north, the less likely they would be to have unwelcome surprises when the Emerald Queen’s army