The Riftwar Legacy: The Complete 4-Book Collection. Raymond E. Feist

James had grown up amidst nobles who were fighting men as well as rulers, and these eastern nobles who wore swords for decoration took some getting used to. The Earl’s voice was surprisingly deep and forceful. ‘Welcome, gentlemen. My Lord Bas-Tyra answered my request.’

      James let Walter speak first. ‘We came straight away, sir.’

      ‘How many men did you bring?’

      ‘A full company of fifty Royal Lancers.’

      The Earl appeared worried. ‘I hope that’s enough. I would really prefer to settle this dispute without resorting to force.’

      Walter glanced at James and shrugged. The Earl noticed the exchange and said, ‘And you are?’

      ‘James, squire to Prince Arutha,’ he said, producing his travel warrants and demands for assistance. The second document seemed to produce increased distress in the Earl. ‘What sort of assistance?’

      ‘At this point, information, m’lord. We have heard rumours of increased activity in the area by the Brotherhood of the Dark Path, as well as the possibility of a return by the Nighthawks.’

      ‘Possibility?’ asked the Earl, his colour rising. ‘Doesn’t anyone read the reports I forward to the Crown? Of course there’s a possibility! They’ve killed two members of the Ironmongers’ Guild for the Riverpullers, and killed two members of the Riverpullers, as well; they’ll kill for whoever pays them. I hear Baron Cavell is hiding out in Cavell Village because they’re stalking him! He lives in a small residence with his household guards in every room.’

      Something about Cavell rang familiar in James’s memory, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

      James said, ‘Well, then, m’lord, my companions and I will be around for a few days, asking questions. We’d prefer it if no one else knew our visit was official. If anyone asks, we are here to convey the Prince’s greetings while en route to somewhere else.’ He glanced at Walter. ‘I’ll be staying over at the Green Cat Inn, to lend credence to that, captain.’

      Walter of Gyldenholt shrugged as if it were of no importance to him. He said, ‘My lord, we’ll be at your disposal. I’ll need to speak with your chief constable in the morning and establish a patrol. As soon as the folks around here see a few of my lads riding around, things will calm down.’

      James and the captain excused themselves from the Earl’s presence. Outside the door, Walter said, ‘Well, squire, we’ll have things in hand around here soon enough.’

      Again feeling the tension in the air, James said, ‘I hope you do, captain. I most sincerely hope you do.’

      They parted company and James found his horse, mounted, and rode across the city in the direction Owyn had indicated. As he rode, he studied the city.

      Romney was located across all three points of an intersection of three rivers. The River Rom coursed down from the Teeth of the World, near Northwarden, the oldest of the border baronies. At Romney the River Cheam branched off to the southeast, while the Rom continued to run southwesterly, turning southeast again as it neared the coast. James paused at the bridge he faced, which arched over the River Cheam. Something was eating at him, a memory he couldn’t quite place, and he knew that it was somehow important. He waited to see if anything bubbled to the surface of his mind, then decided it would come in its own good time.

      James moved across the bridge and found this side of the city even more tense than the other. Citizens moved quickly, eyes darting around as if expecting attack from any quarter, and nowhere could any of the usual street hawkers be seen.

      He reached the Green Cat Inn and rode around to the back of the stabling yard, where he found Gorath and Owyn waiting for him. ‘Why aren’t you inside, eating?’ asked James as he dismounted.

      A terrified-looking stableboy said, ‘Sir, my master is unwilling to serve your … friend.’ He indicated Gorath.

      Muttering, ‘I wouldn’t quite call him a friend,’ James tossed his reins to the boy and marched in the rear door of the inn. Owyn and Gorath hesitated a moment, then followed.

      Inside, James saw a large man, advancing in years, but still broad of shoulders with imposing muscle under a broad girth, turn to see who entered from the stable yard. He pointed a beefy finger at Gorath and said, ‘You! I told you I’ll have none of your kind in my inn!’

      James hurried to put himself between the innkeeper and Gorath. ‘And just what kind would that be?’ he asked.

      The man looked down at James, appraising him and coming to a halt. The young man was quite a bit smaller, but something in his manner made the barman stop. ‘Dark elves! Fifteen years I served on the border, and I’ve killed enough of his kind to know them. They killed enough of my comrades, as well. And who the hell are you to ask?’

      James said, ‘I’m Seigneur James, squire to Prince Arutha of Krondor. He’s my companion and we’re on a mission for the Crown.’

      ‘And I’m the Queen of Banapis,’ said the innkeeper in return.

      James grinned as he reached into his tunic and produced his warrants. ‘Well, Majesty of Love and Beauty, read these, or else I’ll have to go fetch Earl Richard to vouch for me, and let’s see how much he likes being dragged over here given the temper of the city right now.’

      The old man could read, but slowly, with his lips moving. James didn’t offer to help him out. After a moment, he handed back the documents. ‘Damn, you are some sort of Prince’s officer, aren’t you?’

      James shrugged. ‘If I were in the army, I’d be a Knight-Lieutenant, if that makes it easier for an old soldier like you to grasp. Now, I want a room big enough for the three of us, ale, and food.’

      The man threw a black look at Gorath and turned his back on James. ‘Come this way … sir.’ He led them to the bar and went behind it. He produced a large iron key and said, ‘Top of the stairs, all the way back on the right.’ James took the key, when a light entered the man’s eyes. ‘Six golden sovereigns a night.’

      ‘Six!’ said James. ‘You thief!’

      ‘It’s two per person. Take it or leave it.’

      Knowing full well that the fifty lancers would eat up a lot of rooms at local inns, James said, ‘We’ll take it.’

      ‘In advance.’

      James counted out twelve coins and said, ‘Two nights. If we stay longer, we’ll pay the day after tomorrow.’

      The man swept up the coins. ‘And that doesn’t include the cost of food or ale,’ he said.

      ‘I was sure of that,’ said James. To Owyn and Gorath he said, ‘Let’s fetch our kits, then we’ll eat.’

      They got their travel bags off their horses, ensured the stableboy knew what he was doing, and went upstairs. As James had expected, it was the least desirable room in the inn, at the back over the stable. He decided not to make an issue of it.

      Downstairs they endured slow service, even though there wasn’t much of a crowd. James was deciding at what point he would have to take the old soldier who ran the place down a peg when the food finally arrived. To James’s delight, it was well prepared and of good quality.

      As they ate, they discussed the situation. James shared the little information he had with them, and Owyn said, ‘So the Nighthawks are working for the Riverpullers or the Ironmongers?’

      ‘Neither,’ suggested Gorath. ‘Confusion and discord are Delekhan’s allies here in the Kingdom.’

      ‘I believe Gorath is correct. I don’t know if the Nighthawks are in league with this Crawler, Delekhan, or both, or if we’ve just wandered into a conflict that has nothing to do with our mission, but either way it’s to Delekhan’s benefit. Which means we must help to end it.’

      ‘How?’ asked Owyn.

      ‘Find